


Highland Fling [+podfic]

by picascribit



Series: Flingverse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, American Character, American James, American Sirius, Bottom Sirius, Chronic Illness, Coming Out, Embedded Images, Explicit Consent, Falling In Love, Fanart, First Time, Friendship, Frottage, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hiking, Intercrural Sex, Loss of Virginity, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Paganism, Podfic, Podfic Length: 4-4.5 Hours, Remus is out and sexually experienced, Rimming, Romance, Scotland, Scottish Character, Scottish Lily, Scottish Remus, Sirius is closeted and inexperienced, Top Remus, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/picascribit/pseuds/picascribit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2004: The summer before college, Sirius goes backpacking through Scotland in order to escape his family's expectations. In a small village in the Highlands, an unexpected flirtation turns his whole world upside down. Alternately, the story of how Scotland loves Remus and wants him to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jen25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen25/gifts).



> This one is for you, Jen C.; you deserve it. Thank you for ten years of love, support, and cheering me on.
> 
> Many thanks to [runrunhurryhurry](http://runrunhurryhurry.tumblr.com/) for providing the beautiful art in Chapters [2, 11](http://runrunhurryhurry.tumblr.com/post/126567887754/sketched-some-scenes-with-remus-and-sirius-after), and [12](http://runrunhurryhurry.tumblr.com/post/126715791114/ha-so-uh-this-is-straight-up-porn-nothing-artful), and to [allyssinian](http://allyssinian.tumblr.com/) for the lovely art in Chapter [3](http://allyssinian.tumblr.com/post/127976788638/so-ranunculusranunculusranunculus-drew-some). All art used with permission.
> 
> Additional thanks to messrrmoony for reminding me that Remus's lycanthropy is an integral part of his character.
> 
> All photos are the property of the author, and were taken in Scotland.
> 
> Hover over Scottish words for translation.
> 
> Edited September 2014, with significant changes and an all-new Chapter 11.
> 
>  **Podfic**  
>  **Duration:** 4 hr 13 min  
>  **Size:** 232.2 MB  
>  **Download:** [zip file @ Mediafire](http://www.mediafire.com/download/t0q9dn8hoje5qqe/Highland_Fling.zip)  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song:** "Ramblin' Rover" by Andy M. Stewart

_Oh, there's sober men in plenty, and drunkards barely twenty,_  
_There are men of over ninety who have never yet kissed a girl._  
_But give me a ramblin' rover; from Orkney down to Dover_  
_We will roam the country over and together we'll face the world!_  


Sirius Black beheld the village nestled in the valley below him with a sigh of relief. After four days of hiking through the Scottish Highlands, he could barely stand the smell of himself anymore, his shoulders ached from carrying his pack, and he was desperate for something to eat that was not dried or out of a can. Somewhere in the village below, a hot meal awaited him, and, according to his guidebook, a backpackers hostel with (he sighed in rapture at the thought) showers. 

The decision to visit Scotland had been an act of rebellion. Sirius's family's idea of a proper vacation involved private beaches, exclusive mountain getaways, and other similarly ritzy destinations. Places like that bored the life out of Sirius. He was done with them. School was over, and he was an adult now. When his parents had asked him how he wanted to spend his summer vacation before starting at Harvard School of Business in September, he had immediately chosen the unassuming scruffiness of backpacking through Scotland. Alone. 

That was the best part of the trip, as far as Sirius was concerned. He did not care where he was, as long as it was a very long way from his family and his girlfriend and all their endless expectations of him. No email. No cell phone. Just himself and whatever Fate might throw into his path. 

So far, Fate had smiled on him. Scotland was beautiful, once he found his way out of Edinburgh. Not that Edinburgh had not been nice, but it was a city, and that was not what Sirius was looking for. Cities he could find anywhere in the world, but he had never seen countryside like this before. 

Rolling green hills dotted with sheep and edged with low stone walls. A sky dramatic with gray and white clouds hurrying across the blue. Ancient cottages, some with their roofs fallen in and gnarled trees growing within their walls, others surrounded by colorful flower gardens and neatly-kept paths. Quaint villages with curious names, often difficult to pronounce, each with its own small pub. 

Sirius had never felt so free. Not only was he of legal age to drink in this country, but Scottish law allowed him to wander and camp anywhere he pleased, as long as he did not get in anyone's way or damage any property. Even the air seemed freer here. For the first time in his life, Sirius felt as though he could breathe. 

Upon arriving in Edinburgh, he had obtained a map, closed his eyes, spun in a circle, and begun walking roughly northwest. But Edinburgh was sprawling and had proved difficult to escape from on foot. Eventually he had decided to take a bus across the Firth of Forth to the Fife Peninsula, where the countryside began to open up. 

He had spent the next week hiking to his heart's content. So far, the weather had been fine, and he had spent every night but one under the open sky, feeling alone in the universe, and glad of it. The only rules that governed his travels were his resolution never to stay two nights in the same place, his injunction against any unnecessary communication with home and family, and the need to return to Edinburgh in time for his flight back. 

_This,_ he thought with satisfaction, _is the only way to travel._

The hostel was located on the village's high street, and this early in the season, there were plenty of beds available. Sirius stashed his belongings, pausing only to rummage for shampoo and a towel before hitting the showers. 

He sighed with pleasure as the hot water splashed over his skin. The knots in his shoulders loosened as his soapy hands roamed his body, reminding him that he had other parts that did not ache, and might like a bit of attention. However, the needs of his belly were more insistent, and he shut off the water with only mild regret, reaching for his towel. 

Shoulder-length black hair still damp from washing, Sirius wandered down the high street, heading for a pub he had seen on his way into town. His stomach growled in anticipation at the scents that assailed him when he pushed open the door. 

_Not just a hot meal, but a decent one,_ he thought happily, taking a seat at the bar. 

Casting about for a menu, Sirius spotted the bartender. 

At first glance, the man looked far too young for the job. He was tall, with honey-brown hair that fell forward into eyes focussed on the beer he was pouring. He had a long, straight nose, full lips, and high cheekbones. The brown sweater he wore was old and scruffy and much too large for his slender frame, hanging down far enough to cover his denim-clad hips. 

There was something about the way he stood -- or maybe it was the expression on his face -- that captivated Sirius's artistic eye. He opened the leather-bound notebook he had brought with him, and began to sketch. So caught up was he in his drawing that he did not notice he had been observed until a soft Scottish voice spoke to him. 

"Is that meant to be me?" 

Startled, Sirius looked up to find the bartender leaning across the bar, head tilted for a better look at the drawing, an amused smile playing on his lips. Seen up close, he had a ruddy flush to his cheeks which contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin even in the low light of the pub. 

Sirius blushed and quickly closed the notebook. "It's nothing." 

"Och, I dinna mind." His brown eyes twinkled and for a second Sirius thought he caught the gleam of a tongue piercing. "What'll it be?" 

"Pardon?" said Sirius, pulling his eyes away from the man's mouth. 

"Pint?" the stranger asked. "Mixed drink? Food?" 

"Oh, food," Sirius said quickly. "And a beer. Whatever's good." 

"Try the MacRae's Bitter," the bartender suggested. "It goes doon a treat with the shepherd's pie." 

"Sounds great," Sirius agreed, still feeling self-conscious. 

The young man went to put his order through to the kitchen, then returned to pour Sirius's beer. 

"Where do you come from?" he asked. 

"America," replied Sirius. Then, belatedly realizing that his accent made that much obvious, he added, "Connecticut. It's next to New York." 

"Aye," nodded the barman. "And what are you called, then?" 

"Sirius. Sirius Black." 

"Remus Lupin," the other man introduced himself. "Black isna a Scots name." 

"No," agreed Sirius. "It's English, as far as I know." 

"Most o' the Yanks we get up this way are after looking up their family trees," Remus explained. 

"I had a grandmother who was a MacMillan." 

Remus chuckled. "Nay more than I expected. Are you here with family, then?" 

Some of Sirius's self-consciousness had begun to dissipate, charmed by the man's accent and easy smile. "No. Just traveling on my own for a bit before I start college in September." 

"College? You mean uni?" asked the bartender. 

A plump, middle-aged woman bearing Sirius's shepherd's pie exited the kitchen, elbowing Remus out of the way. 

"You can pull on your ain time, laddie," she told him cheerfully. "Meanwhile there's paying customers going dry." 

Remus flushed. "Sorry," he mumbled, and hurried away. 

Sirius glanced at the woman curiously. "'Pull'? What does that mean?" 

Her smile was so like Remus's that he guessed they must be related. "Surely you've been chatted up before. A fine bonnie laddie like you?" 

She looked him over approvingly. When Sirius could do no more than goggle at her, she returned to the kitchen, chuckling and shaking her head. 

Was she right? Had the bartender been hitting on him? Their conversation had seemed no more than friendly. Sirius eyed the man covertly, hardly tasting the food he had been so eager for not an hour before. He did not look gay, but Sirius had to admit that his experience with people of that orientation was limited. No one at his prep school had been gay -- at least, no one that Sirius had known about -- and it was the sort of thing his family considered unseemly to discuss. Nothing in Remus's bearing or mannerisms gave any hint one way or the other, as far as Sirius could tell. Perhaps the woman had only been having a joke at a foreigner's expense. 

To distract himself from his confusion, Sirius returned to his sketch, carefully angling the notebook to shield his work from the drawing's subject. Curiosity consumed him, however, and when Remus returned a short while later to offer Sirius a fresh beer, it was all he could do not to blurt out the question. Instead, he asked about the woman in the kitchen. 

"My Auntie Fiona," Remus confirmed. "She owns this place. Offered me work here until I start uni." 

Remus did not stay for as long this time, but he kept coming back to the end of the bar where Sirius sat, even when his beer did not need refilling. Between serving customers, Sirius learned that Remus had grown up in Edinburgh, but his family had originally come from the village, and he had spent many of his school holidays there. In September, he would be starting a Geology degree at the University of St Andrews. 

Sirius privately thought studying rocks sounded boring, but he found he liked hearing Remus talk about it. Maybe it was the accent. Every now and then, he had to ask the other man to explain a word, and the rise and fall of his voice was different from what Sirius was used to, but for the most part, his speech was pleasant and easy to understand. 

"But I thought Brits paid next to nothing for college -- er -- uni," said Sirius at one point. "Why do you need a job?" 

"Aye, that's true," Remus admitted. "Auntie Fiona likes a bit o' help with the tourists, though. It's nice to have a bit of extra pocket money as well, and it's no always easy to find work when --" he broke off, shaking his head. "But honestly, I was just needing to get away for a wee bit." 

Sirius raised his glass in sympathy. "Right there with you. Do they not want you to do Geology or something?" He had warred long and hard with his own parents over his desire to minor in a "useless" subject like Art History. 

"Nay, they were fine about the course," said Remus slowly. "It was more o' the other thing. Me wanting to shag blokes. They dinna think much o' that." 

He gave Sirius a sideways glance, gauging his reaction. 

"Oh," was all Sirius could think to say. 

"Will you be wanting to close your tab, then, Mr. Black?" Remus asked politely. 

Sirius guessed that the Scot was testing him, seeing if he would bolt now that he knew the truth. He saw no reason to. There was nothing wrong with being gay, as far as Sirius was concerned. His parents might disagree, but he took pains not to be like them whenever possible. Too many of their views were based on flawed or outdated ideas about the world. In any case, Remus did not seem likely to jump on him without warning. 

"No." He cleared his throat. "No, I think I'll have another beer. And it's 'Sirius'. Mr. Black is my father. So, ah, what is there to do around here?" 

Remus accepted the change of topic with a nod and the shadow of a smile, naming a few sites of interest within walking distance of the village. His highest recommendation went to a small distillery a few miles up the road. 

"I used to go for the tours with my Mum and Da when I was a wee lad," he explained. "It's a brilliant place. This will be the first year I've been old enough to sample the whisky, but I havena been up yet." 

"It sounds like fun," agreed Sirius. "Which road do I take?" 

Remus hesitated. "I could show you. If you dinna mind the company, that is. I've the day off tomorrow." 

"You have a car?" asked Sirius, surprised. Given Remus's age, shabby appearance, and student status, it did not seem likely. 

"Nay," said Remus, shaking his head. "It's no but a wee walk, though. An hour, maybe." 

Sirius could not help grinning at the hopeful tone in Remus's voice. Maybe the man _was_ hitting on him. Sirius found that he rather enjoyed the attention. 

"Sounds like a plan," he said. 

* * *

Sirius lay awake at the hostel, staring at the underside of the bunk above him. It was not the soft snores of his fellow travelers that kept him from sleep, but a tiny, niggling thought in the back of his mind. _Why should it matter?_

It should not make any difference to him one way or the other that Remus Lupin was gay, nor should it matter if he was attracted to Sirius. Sirius was straight. He was mildly flattered by the attention the other man gave him, that was all. If he had entertained thoughts from time to time about what it might be like to -- well, that was perfectly normal, surely. Everyone had those thoughts sometimes. Just because boys did not talk about such things among themselves did not make him some kind of -- 

Sirius sighed and leaned over the side of the bed for his notebook and pencil. Perhaps purging himself of his odd thoughts would help him sleep. He flipped quickly past the drawing he had made at the bar, opening the book to a blank page. 

His brother had given him the notebook as a graduation present. Regulus was a great one for diaries and journals, but it was not a hobby he and Sirius shared. Still, Sirius had been touched by the gift. Regulus had suggested he might use it to document his travels. Because Sirius had always been more interested in art than in writing, Regulus had made sure to find a notebook which was only lined on one side of each page. 

"But write about it, too, OK?" he had said. "I want to hear about everything when you come home." 

Should he write about Remus Lupin? _Why should it matter?_ he thought again. It was all perfectly innocent. He had met and spoken with a friendly local, that was all. 

_And made a date with him,_ said the small voice in the back of his mind. 

No. It was not a date. Straight people could be friends with gay people and do things together without it meaning anything. Sirius would just have to make sure Remus understood that. Nothing was going to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter by [runrunhurryhurry](http://runrunhurryhurry.tumblr.com/post/126567887754/sketched-some-scenes-with-remus-and-sirius-after) (used with permission).
> 
>  **Song:** "Whiskey, You're the Devil" (Traditional)

  
_Oh whiskey, you're the devil, you're leading me astray,_  
_Over hills and mountains and to Amerikay._  
_You're sweetness from the Bleachner and spunkier than tea._  
_Oh whiskey, you're my darling, drunk or sober._  


The beds at the hostel were narrow but comfortable, and in spite of his late-night musings, Sirius awoke the next morning feeling relatively well-rested. The hostel even turned out to have a laundry room, which he was only too glad to take advantage of. While his clothes spun around, he shared breakfast with a few other guests in exchange for a couple of pounds and help with the dishes. The clothes dryer seemed to take forever. He had not arranged to meet Remus until ten o'clock, but he caught himself glancing at his watch several times, impatient to start the new day's adventuring. 

It was misting heavily when Sirius at last stepped out onto the high street. Remus was waiting for him outside the pub, a ridiculous-looking battered broad-brimmed hat hanging down his back from a cord about his neck, hands in his pockets, looking completely unconcerned about the weather. The mottled ruddiness of his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose was even more pronounced in daylight than it had been in the dimness of the pub the night before. 

He greeted Sirius with a lopsided smile. "Do you still want to go? I ken it's a wee bit saft out." 

"No, I do," Sirius assured him. "I don't have an umbrella, though." 

Remus's smile widened. "You'd look a right numpty, carrying a brolly in this. It's no but a bit o' mist." 

His cheeriness and soft brogue took any sting out of the words, and Sirius returned the smile. "I don't mind if you don't." 

"Nay, I prefer this sort o' weather." 

They took a different road than the one that had brought Sirius into town the previous day. Past the last houses of the village, the pavement ran out, and the dirt-and-gravel track began to climb into the hills. At the top of the first rise, they paused for a rest and to take in what Remus said was the best view of the village. 

Sirius had to admit it was lovely, even shrouded in mist. The heavy air softened and blurred the edges of everything until green and gray ran together, but there was a luminous quality to the air which kept it from feeling oppressive. Sirius took out his digital camera to snap a picture, but when he checked the result in the viewer, he was disappointed to find little more than a blurry, gray-green smudge. 

"Aye, a lot o' photos around here turn out like that," Remus said when Sirius showed him. "Sometimes I think this place doesna want to be captured; it wants to remind you that the only way to ken what it's like is to be in it." He grinned sheepishly. "That probably sounds daft." 

Sirius might have thought so under other circumstances, but coming from the young man standing on the Scottish hillside with droplets of mist clinging to his hair and the brown wool of his sweater, somehow it sounded entirely reasonable. 

"No," he said. "I think I get it. I'll just have to remember what it looks like." 

"Here," said Remus, bending to pick up what looked to Sirius like a perfectly ordinary gray pebble. He placed it on Sirius's outstretched palm. "This will help." 

The gray stone was flecked with silver and crystal, and it was still warm from Remus's touch. "What is it?" 

"Granite. It grows around here. Most o' the land in these parts is metamorphic rock. All this --" he waved a hand over the valley, "-- used to be at the bottom o' the ocean and in the crust o' the earth. But here and there, you'll get pockets o' granite thrusting up through. It's the bones o' the land." He gave Sirius another sheepish smile. "So you'll keep a bit of it. To remember, aye?" 

Sirius pulled his eyes away from Remus's face to the pebble in his hand. He closed his fingers around it, feeling the rough weight of it in his palm. "Yeah. I will." 

Remus spent the rest of the walk to the distillery explaining how the local landscape had formed, and how it had affected settlement and regional history. They walked slowly, pausing often for Remus to point out various landmarks. Far from being bored, Sirius was entranced. Perhaps it was the obvious affection and enthusiasm with which Remus described the scenery, or the gossipy way he talked about history, or only the pleasant rhythm of his voice. He could startle a bark of laughter from Sirius as easily with a tale of a local chieftain hundreds of years dead as with an anecdote from his own childhood, spent scrabbling over the rocky outcrops and stream beds of the Highlands. 

When Remus asked him questions about his own life, Sirius was almost too embarrassed to answer. It all felt so mundane by comparison. But Remus seemed genuinely interested, so Sirius told him about his family and the part of New England where he had grown up and the prep school he had gone to. 

"I hadna figured you for posh." Remus gave him an odd smile. "Did you say where you're headed for uni?" 

Sirius made a face. He had no desire to think about his plans for the future until it was absolutely necessary. "Harvard. My father went there, and he knows the dean of the business school." 

"Aye, well, you should do well enough there," said Remus, but his smile had vanished. 

"I suppose so," agreed Sirius without enthusiasm. 

By the time they reached the distillery, nestled between two hills, the mist was beginning to lift. Remus told Sirius he would wait for him in the tasting room, since he had been on the tour before, but Sirius insisted on paying for his ticket. 

"Consider it my thanks for keeping me company and acting as my tour guide," he said when Remus objected. 

The distillery was much smaller and more old-fashioned than Sirius had imagined. Everything from the malting of the barley to the distilling and bottling of the liquor was done by traditional means, or with elderly-looking equipment. Sirius snapped a few photos, but humidity from the fermentation tubs hung heavy in the air, and they all came out looking blurry. 

The tour moved on to a small stream, which their guide explained was the source of all the water used in the whisky-making process, and from which Remus pocketed another small granite pebble. They finished up in the tasting room, a cozy, pub-like space with a fire burning in the grate, and a long wooden bar, behind which glowed dozens of bottles of the local beverage. 

"Have you drunk much whisky?" Remus asked as they leaned against the bar, awaiting the first of three tastings included in the price of the tour. 

"Just the American stuff," said Sirius with a shrug as the woman behind the counter poured out two measures of aromatic gold. 

"You'll have to let me know how this compares." Remus clinked his glass against Sirius's. " _Slàinte_." 

"Cheers." 

Sirius did not have much experience with hard liquor, and what he had mostly involved a few nights with friends that started out with shots, proceeded to drinking straight from the bottle, and ended with vague and unpleasant memories of a toilet, and a vicious hangover the following morning. But after seeing the care that went into crafting this whisky, tossing it back without tasting it seemed like a crime. He watched Remus take his first sip before tasting his own. 

The flavor was odd. Complicated and heady. Sirius was not entirely certain whether he liked it or not, though Remus seemed to enjoy his immensely. Sirius took a few more careful sips before surreptitiously knocking back the rest as the Scot finished his own. 

"You dinna like it?" Remus asked, looking mildly amused. 

Sirius blushed. "No, it was -- good." 

"Let me choose the next. We'll find something to suit you." 

The second whisky was more to Sirius's liking. It had a sweeter flavor, and set up a small pleasant glow in his belly, but he still could not imagine drinking very much of it. 

"Better?" Remus grinned. 

"Yeah. This is nice." 

Remus clicked his tongue. "Nice? We can do better than that!" He squinted at the rows of bottles before indicating his selection to the tasting room attendant. "A wee dram o' that one, if you'd be so kind." 

"That one'll cost you a bit extra," she warned them. 

Remus hesitated before reaching for his wallet, but Sirius laid a hand on his arm. 

"I've got it." 

Remus's eyes were almost exactly the same color as the whisky. "Are you sure?" 

"I trust your judgement," Sirius said, giving the Scot his most winning smile. 

He could tell right away that the third whisky was something special. The aroma was completely different from the previous two, and when he brought it to his lips, the smooth, smoky flavor was like nothing he had ever tasted before. It sang in his throat without any of the burn the other liquor had carried. 

When he lowered his glass, Remus was watching him. "Well?" 

Sirius nodded. "It's good," he rasped, vocal chords mildly paralyzed by the strong drink. 

"Aye, it is." 

Remus raised his own glass, closing his eyes and savoring the whisky for a long moment before swallowing. His tongue darted out to catch a drop that lingered on his lower lip. Sirius had been right; Remus definitely had a tongue-piercing. He quickly buried his nose in his glass before Remus could notice him staring. If he did not stop doing that, the Scot might get the wrong idea, when really Sirius was only a bit tipsy, and enjoying Remus's company. 

To prove to himself that he was just having a pleasant day with a new friend, Sirius raised his camera. "Say cheese." 

Remus grinned self-consciously and held up his glass in a silent toast as Sirius snapped the picture. 

"You're pissed," Remus laughed, shaking his head. "Yanks. Not a one o' you can hold your liquor. Three whiskies, and I have to carry you home." 

"I'm not drunk," Sirius objected, standing up to demonstrate and only swaying slightly. "Just a bit --" 

"Squiffy?" 

Sirius giggled. "How many words do the Scots have for 'drunk'?" 

"More than I could tell you if we sat here all day," Remus assured him. "We should be on our way, though, if we want to get back to the village for lunchtime." 

"I'll get lunch," Sirius volunteered, but Remus shook his head, grinning. 

"Nay, when a bonnie laddie treats me to thirty-year-old whisky, I must find some way to return the favor, aye?" 

Sirius found himself blushing, and immediately blamed the drink for the thought which Remus's words sent flitting through his brain. The whisky was also making his knees wobbly, and filling him with a pleasant sense of euphoria. 

The mist had burned off completely and the sun was peeking through the clouds as they left the distillery and turned back down the road to the village. Remus paused to put on his ridiculous hat, shading his face from the intermittent sun. 

Though the return trip was largely downhill, it was slower going, since Sirius had a little trouble putting his feet in front of each other. Remus, who appeared annoyingly sober, kept distracting his attention from the awkward task by laughing and teasing him for his unsteady pace and limited capacity. But when Sirius's foot caught on a stone and he stumbled in earnest, Remus was there to catch him. 

"All right?" he asked, searching Sirius's eyes. "Do you want to sit doon for a spell?" 

Sirius could not quite make sense of the words. All he could see were concerned, whisky-colored eyes and a wide, full-lipped mouth with a worried set to it, and all he could think was that his family and everyone who knew him were thousands of miles away and he would be gone from this place soon and probably never see Remus again and it did not actually have to mean anything, did it, so why the hell not? 

Sirius felt Remus's breath catch as he pressed his mouth to the Scot's. The smoky flavor of the whisky lingered on his lips and tongue, every bit as intoxicating as the golden beverage itself had been. He licked greedily into Remus's mouth, intrigued by the way his tongue stud clicked against his teeth, and Remus responded, hands sliding around Sirius's waist to pull him close, deepening the kiss. 

It was Remus who broke away, pulling Sirius out of the road as a large truck roared past, which was a good thing, since Sirius had not even heard it coming. He felt mildly dizzy and very confused. 

"I -- ah --" said Remus, adjusting his hat, which had been knocked askew. "I -- wasna sure if you were --" 

"I'm not," Sirius replied, perhaps a little too quickly. "It's just --" 

"The drink?" suggested Remus. "Do you snog a lot o' blokes when you're rat-arsed?" 

"No! I've never -- I'm _not_ \--" Sirius flailed with panic at the thought that he had somehow upset Remus by his actions, when he had only meant -- well, he was not sure now what he _had_ meant by kissing the Scot like that. 

Skepticism was plainly writ across Remus's face. "Oh, aye? Never even thought about it, have you?" 

Sirius shrugged uncomfortably, eyes downcast. "Everyone _thinks_ about it sometimes. It's what you do that matters." 

Remus made an unconvinced sound. "All right. As you like. You're not queer." 

They walked on in silence for a while, Sirius feeling more sober now, but less cheerful than he had when they left the distillery. 

When he could stand the silence no longer, he blurted out, "How long have you known? I mean, that you're --?" 

"Gay?" Remus's tone was mocking, showing his contempt for Sirius's inability to use the word. "Always, I suppose. But I tried not to be for a long time. I went out with a few lasses, but it always felt like work, even the shagging." He shot Sirius a measuring look. "Last summer I met a bloke. We hit it off. He broke my heart. But after that, I couldna lie to myself anymore." 

"Oh," said Sirius. "I'm sorry." 

"What about you?" Remus asked. "Do you have a lass at home?" 

Sirius shrugged. He did not want to talk about Venice Corbet. She was part of what he had come to Scotland to get away from. "Sort of," he admitted. "She's -- we go to parties and things together, and my parents invite her over for dinner all the time. They adore her. But we're not sleeping together, or anything like that. She says she's saving it for the wedding night." He blushed. 

Venice's reluctance had actually been a relief to Sirius, and he had given up trying after a few half-hearted attempts at seduction. She just was not his type. Even kissing her was not very interesting. She usually only kissed him in public, and she made an annoying _mwah_ sound when she did it, as if to signal to anyone nearby that he belonged to her. 

Remus was looking at him as if he were a puzzle the Scot was trying to figure out. "Are you promised to her, then?" 

"Are we engaged, do you mean?" Again, Sirius shrugged. "She expects it. My parents expect it. But no, I haven't asked her yet." 

"Do you love her?" Remus's voice was softer now. He did not seem annoyed anymore. 

Sirius pressed his lips together. The truth was that he was not even sure he _liked_ Venice. In the year or so that they had been seeing one another, he had never used the word _love_ anymore than she had. She was just there. An assumption in human form. The right sort of girl from the right sort of family. Pretty, intelligent, and completely uninteresting to him in every way. 

"No," he said with certainty, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "No, I don't."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter by [allyssinian](http://allyssinian.tumblr.com/post/127976788638/so-ranunculusranunculusranunculus-drew-some) (used with permission).
> 
>  **Song:** "Wild Mountain Thyme" by Francis McPeake

  
_Oh, the summertime is comin',_  
_And the trees are sweetly bloomin',_  
_And the wild mountain thyme_  
_Grows amang the bloomin' heather_  
_Will ye go, lassie, go?_  


Remus took them back to the pub for lunch, and Sirius, still looking guilty and embarrassed, had offered to pay once more, but Remus brushed him off and directed him to a booth in the corner before ducking into the kitchen. 

"It's two of us for lunch, Auntie Fi," he said. "The fish and chips will do, if it isna too much bother." 

Fiona raised her eyebrows, giving him a look over. "Back already? I hope you didna tire yourself out on the walk." 

"Nay, I'm well enough." 

"Did you wear your hat?" 

"Aye," he said a trifle irritably. "You dinna need to fuss over me. I ken well enough how to take care o' myself." 

She pursed her lips doubtfully. "You're a fledgeling just out o' the nest. It's your family's prerogative to fuss a bit. And how's it going with your laddie?" 

Remus blushed and looked away. "I dinna ken. He says he isna queer." 

"The way he was looking at you last night?" His aunt chuckled. "He couldna keep his een off you! Nay, he fancies you, right enough." 

"Well, could you maybe tell _him_ that?" Remus made a face as he filled two pint glasses with water from the kitchen tap. "I  dinna think he kens it, himself." 

Fiona gave him a fond smile. "Just be your charming self, laddie. How could he resist you?" 

Rolling his eyes, Remus exited the kitchen. He caught sight of Sirius sitting at the table, gazing out the window with a troubled set to his mouth, and some of his annoyance dissipated. Remus knew very well what it was like to feel confused. It was not Sirius's fault that he had been brought up to reject the idea of anything other than strict heterosexuality. He offered the other man a smile as he set down the water glasses on the table. 

"Drink it slowly," he admonished when Sirius guzzled half of his down at once. "Else you'll just piss it all right back out again." 

Sirius snorted, but he did slow down. 

A few moments later, Fiona emerged from the kitchen bearing their plates and a significant look for Remus, but said no more than, "There you are, lads," before retreating. 

Remus did not pay much attention to his own food, instead covertly watching Sirius. When he had first spotted the handsome, dark-haired American eyeing him over the bar, Remus had been certain that Christmas had come early. He had been so sure of the other man's interest that he had volunteered his own sexual orientation up front, which he almost never did with strangers. Sirius had made no comment, but still appeared interested, which was why Remus had taken a chance and asked him out to the distillery, even though it was a longer walk that was probably good for him. 

In fact, Remus had half expected to find Sirius hanging around outside the pub the night before, waiting for him to get off work. If he had been, Remus would have dragged him into the alley and had him up against the wall right then and there. None of this hanging about and talking and maybe-maybe-not nonsense. That was the sort of thing that got a bloke into trouble. Better to keep things simple. 

But Sirius had not been waiting for him the night before, and today, his words had been completely at odds with his actions. He seemed to watch Remus constantly. He smiled and flirted back when Remus teased him. And that desperate, hungry kiss on the road had left Remus breathless. In spite of all that, Sirius swore he was straight -- he had a girlfriend at home -- they were practically engaged. It was exasperating. If Sirius was in denial about his sexuality, the chances of him even beginning to come to terms with it before he left town were vanishingly small. 

To top it all off, Sirius was posh. It was only because of the difference in their nationalities and accents that he had not spotted straight away how working class Remus was. If Sirius had been English or Scots, he never would have looked twice at someone like him, even if he had not been deeply closeted. 

Remus thought he had it figured out now, however. Sirius would have realized by now that Remus was the sort of person someone like him was free to experiment with, and then forget about when he returned home. As long as Remus understood that, and did not harbour any foolish expectations, it would be all right. He did not want a repetition of last summer, which had left him feeling used and humiliated, crying his eyes out and begging for another chance with the man who had broken his heart, even when he knew he had been played. He just needed to make sure Sirius understood, too. 

"Are you sober enough to talk about things?" 

Sirius lowered his eyes to the scarred wooden tabletop, shamefaced. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have -- done that." He glanced surreptitiously at the handful of patrons dining nearby and lowered his voice further still. "It was stupid. I wasn't thinking." 

Remus waved a hand, dismissing Sirius's apology. "The way I see it is this," he murmured, leaning forwards to keep from being overheard. "The way you talk about your family, your lass, your uni plans, how you came here to get away. You're unhappy. So. You're here looking for something a bit different, aye? And you meet a gay lad, and maybe you're a wee bit curious. So you give him a snog. Nay harm in it." He paused, eyeing the man across the table. "Is that about the shape of it?" 

Sirius nodded, looking, if possible, even guiltier. "I know I should've said something before I --" 

"That may be, but I want to be clear on where we stand the noo. You're curious, and that's fine. I ken what that's like. Maybe you've found out what you wanted to know, and we're finished with all this. That's up to you. I'll no try anything on with you, nor take advantage o' you in any way. I'm no looking for anything, and I ken that you arena either. When you leave the village, we'll go our separate ways, and nay harm done, aye? But between now and then, if you're still curious, well, that's fine, too." 

A startling array of expressions chased one another across Sirius's features. "I --" he rasped, then stopped to clear his throat. "I should go." 

Remus tried to keep his disappointment from showing on his face, but he must not have been very successful, because Sirius quickly added, "It's not you. Or -- _that_. It's just -- part of this trip was never spending more than one night in the same place. I should hit the road before it's too late in the day for me to get anywhere." 

"Aye," said Remus flatly. "Which way will you be headed next?" 

Sirius shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I was planning to keep walking north. Stop for the night at the next place along the road." 

"Aye, you can do that," Remus said. "But it's nay more than a bit to the north, and you're into the Cairngorms, and nay toon for miles. You'll be needing to pack in enough food to keep you for a few days." 

"Oh. Um." Sirius looked torn. It was already past two o'clock. He would not be able to get far even if he set out at once. 

"Or --" said Remus slowly, knowing it was probably a bad idea even as he suggested it, "-- you can buy your bits and pieces this afternoon, and stay at Auntie Fiona's tonight. It's just outside the village, so technically, you wouldna be breaking your rule." 

Sirius was silent for a long moment. His expression bespoke some internal struggle. "Would that be all right with your aunt?" 

"She willna mind," Remus assured him. "She's always letting travelers stop in. There's the sofa to kip on, so that's all right." 

"OK," Sirius said at last. "I need to get my things from the hostel, and then you can show me where the grocery store is." 

* * *

Inviting Sirius to stay with him and his aunt was seeming like a worse and worse idea with every passing minute. Since that baffling kiss, Sirius had been jumpy and tight-lipped, barely looking at him. Remus's own attempts to keep up light, friendly conversation had become painfully awkward, and he was beginning to think maybe it would have been a better plan to get Sirius out of town as quickly as possible, for both their peace of mind. He would miss the talkative, flirtatious man with whom he had begun the day, but it seemed that version of Sirius had already fled, and was not likely to return. 

When Remus asked him what he wanted to do, after they had dropped off his rucksack and shopping at the house, Sirius looked terrified for a moment, before stammering, "We could -- um -- you can show me around town, if you like. All the places you used to go when you were a kid." 

That seemed like a safe enough activity, and maybe Sirius would relax a little if they remained in public. But as Remus pointed out the kirk and the library and the primary school, Sirius's only response was silent and preoccupied disinterest. Remus began to wonder if it was not the kiss, but his own presumptuous proposition that was causing Sirius's anxiety. 

"I'm sorry," he said in a low voice. "I think I made you skittish o' me at the pub. That wasna my intent. If you want, I'll leave you be, and you can go exploring on your ain." 

"It's not you," said Sirius. "It's just been a strange sort of day. It's nice having company. I'll have plenty of time to myself after tomorrow, won't I?" 

"As you like," said Remus, dubiously. 

But he could not just leave it. Remus had enjoyed their morning walk to the distillery. Sirius, when he was not being hopelessly self-conscious, had been very charming company, and had made him laugh. In response, Remus had opened up enough to share some of his own private thoughts and feelings about the land he loved so well -- something he rarely did with strangers -- and Sirius had seemed to understand, or at least said he did. 

But now the young American was all turned inwards. Remus felt he had to find a way to draw Sirius back out of himself and re-connect him with the place he was in. If he could not, he would feel partly responsible for having ruined Sirius's experience of Scotland, a wrong for which Remus could never forgive himself. 

They were skirting the northern edge of the village, past houses built out of blocks of grey stone, with slate-tiled roofs and neat little gardens around their steps, walking in the shade of the lush summer trees, when Remus paused, glancing into the greenery. 

"What is it?" Sirius asked, the first words either of them had spoken in almost five minutes. 

Remus hesitated. He knew he should not do it. It was almost too personal, and Sirius was a foreigner, to boot. It was not a place for tourists. Remus did not think anyone apart from the locals even knew about it. But it might be just the thing Sirius needed. 

"There's a place in the wood. It's -- special. I could show it to you, if you like." 

For the first time in hours, Sirius looked interested. He peered between the trees, as if trying to see what Remus was talking about. "Special like how?" 

"It's --" Remus shook his head. There were no words that would adequately convey the place to a person who had not seen it for himself. "It's the Den." 

The trail head was difficult to find if one did not already know it was there, but it opened up past the treeline, and they entered a quiet space filled with green-filtered light. Remus led the way between the trees, pushing his hat back on his shoulders once they were well into the shade, and warning Sirius away from a clump of nettles. The path forked, and Remus turned right, taking a trail that looked as if it stopped abruptly at the top of a high embankment. 

"This is the Den," he said softly. 

He could feel Sirius standing at his elbow, looking down into the small ravine and the burn that bubbled through it, sunlight dancing and sparkling where it touched the water. Remus could not recall the first time he had come here, or with whom. As far back as his own memory reached, he had always known this place, and felt its significance. 

"It's just green the noo, but you should see it in the early spring, all full o' daffodils and bluebells." 

He stepped out onto a rocky promontory and knelt beside a shallow pool filled with rain water, scooping up a handful and letting it run through his fingers, feeling the magic and peace of the place steal over him. It was part of his ritual whenever he came here. He knew Sirius was watching him, but he felt no need to explain. The Den spoke for itself. 

"Come doon," he said softly. 

Not looking to see if Sirius followed, he rose and stepped into what appeared to be little more than a narrow crevice in the rock until one stood over it. A rough set of steps, hewn into the stone long ago, descended into the Den itself. At the bottom, Remus reached out to caress the familiar Celtic knot carved into the face of the rock. 

"Is it old?" Sirius's hushed voice came from just behind Remus's shoulder. 

"Some of it is," Remus replied, not looking at him. "The steps, almost certainly, and probably the pool as well. This carving is more recent. You can see how the stone has eroded a bit with the rain and wind, but the lines are still clear. Maybe only a few centuries old." 

Sirius traced the pattern with a finger, a look of awe on his face. "That's still really old." 

The wonder in his voice told Remus that the Den was working its magic on the American, just as he had hoped it would. He allowed himself a tiny smile of satisfaction. 

"A few centuries are nothing to a Scot. People have been coming here hundreds, maybe thousands o' years. Do you want to see the rest of it?" 

"There's more?" Sirius asked, grey eyes wide. 

Remus's smile widened. "Come with me." 

The bottom of the ravine was relatively flat and well-trod. The shallow burn ran along one edge, half hidden by a rocky overhang, before sweeping out into the open and then vanishing with a rush into the greenery. Cupped in a bend of the little stream stood a tree. The bole of it was so thick that the two of them together could barely have circled it with their arms, but several slender branches hung down within easy reach. Dozens of small objects and trinkets and bright bits of cloth hung from the branches, secured by string or ribbon or yarn or wire, like festive fruit that fluttered and sparkled merrily in the breeze. 

Sirius touched a silver ring hanging from a green ribbon, setting it swinging. He looked at Remus inquiringly. 

"It's a prayer tree," Remus explained. "Folk leave offerings, asking for good fortune or health or happiness. Whatever they have need of." 

Sirius raised his eyebrows, flashing Remus the first smile he had seen since the pub. "That sounds almost pagan." 

"Aye, I suppose it is." 

Remus reached into his pocket and drew out the granite pebble he had taken from the burn at the distillery. Biting a loose thread from the sleeve of his jumper, he wound it around the stone, securing the other end to one of the tree's branches. When he looked up, Sirius was watching him intently, still smiling. 

"Are you a pagan, then?" 

Remus shrugged, giving Sirius a rueful smile. "I dinna believe in gods or magic or the wee folk or any nonsense like that," he said. "But -- there's power in some things, aye? Words. Blood. Sex. The ties between people and places. This place -- it's where I come from. My family have lived in the village a long time. It's odds on some o' my ancestors helped carve out this place. So I come here, usually at the times I think they would have done. Always on the solstice, if I'm able. Full moons sometimes, if I canna sleep. Or just when I want to feel that I'm part o' something greater than myself. My ain troubles dinna seem to matter so much when I ken I'm no but a wee blip in the history o' the world." 

The smile faded from Sirius's lips as Remus spoke, the look of awe returning. "It's beautiful. Thank you for showing me." 

Remus looked away, feeling self-conscious. "I -- havena ever brought anyone here before." 

"Oh," said Sirius softly. "Then why --?" 

"You seemed like you needed it. I didna like to think that I had maybe ruined Scotland for you." 

"You haven't," said Sirius earnestly. "You've made it -- Remus, you're part of this place. I don't think I'd be able to really see it without you." 

Remus's ears reddened. "Aye, well, I'm glad of it." 

Sirius raised a hand to touch the granite pebble, but his eyes never left Remus's. "What did you pray for?" 

Remus tensed. "That I'm no going to make an ass o' myself," he admitted. 

"About -- me?" 

Remus nodded. 

"I'm not gay," Sirius warned fiercely. 

"Aye," replied Remus, a touch defiant. "And I amna fool enough to fall for a straight lad." 

"All right then. So long as that's understood." 

Then Sirius was on him, capturing his mouth in a messy kiss, hands clutching at the wool of his jumper. Remus's back hit the trunk of the tree as the warm, solid body pressed flush against him. His heart was pounding, the blood singing in his ears as his lips parted and he gave himself up to the powerful urgency of the man in his arms. 

Sirius broke the kiss to rest his forehead against Remus's. "Wh-what am I doing?" he asked, breathless. 

"Do you want to stop?" Remus panted. 

" _No_." 

Sirius's hips ground against his, and Remus could feel the other man's erection straining against the fly of his denims. Remus moaned, pressing back with his own hardness and biting down on Sirius's earlobe. He swiveled his hips, seeking friction, pressure. One hand slid down Sirius's back and over his arse, pulling him closer. His fingers dug into the denim and firm flesh beneath as Sirius groaned and writhed. 

"Oh, fucking _fuck_!" whimpered Sirius. His whole body shook as his hips jerked uncontrollably against Remus's. 

The suddenness and intensity of Sirius's orgasm drove Remus over the edge. He swore breathlessly, head tipping back to rest against the tree as a long tremor shivered through him. 

They stayed where they were for several minutes, eyes closed, the tree at Remus's back supporting them while their weakened knees could not. 

At last, Remus gave a long sigh. "That wasna so bad, was it?" 

A soft, helpless groan emerged from somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder. "Didn't mean to desecrate your holy place," said a muffled voice. 

"Nay." Remus opened his eyes and smiled up into the branches of the prayer tree. "I think maybe this is just the sort o' thing this place was meant for."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song:** "As I Cam O'er the Cairney Mount" by Robert Burns

  
_As I cam o'er the Cairney mount,_  
_And down amang the bloomin' heather,_  
_The Hieland laddie drew his dirk,_  
_And sheath'd it in my wanton leather._  


Sirius's mind was reeling. It had been totally unexpected. He could not remember ever coming like that before. Not on his own. Not the one time a girl had brought him off by hand. That time had taken forever, and had left both of them so annoyed, embarrassed, and frustrated that they had never spoken again. But somehow, just the feel of Remus's erection rubbing against his own through his jeans had caused him to lose all self-control. He knew he should feel embarrassed, but he only felt dazed and a little shaky as he followed Remus up out of the Den and back to the village road. 

They walked in silence. Sirius was grateful that Remus did not push for conversation or try to touch him. He needed space to breathe and to think. He was still not certain what he was doing, but something about the young Scot had captivated him, and he felt helpless against the pull of it. 

By the time they arrived back at Remus's aunt's house, the magic of the Den had evaporated, and Sirius was beginning to be nervous again. The two of them were alone together, and Fiona Lupin would not be home until after the pub closed for the night. 

As if sensing Sirius's skittishness and need for space, Remus said, "The toilet's just at the top o' the stair. You can take a shower if you like; there are towels in the linen cupboard. I'm just going to fix something for tea. It'll be ready by the time you come doon." 

Relieved, Sirius grabbed his pack from the end of the sofa and escaped up the stairs into the bathroom. Only when the door was closed and locked behind him did he feel able to relax for a moment. He rummaged for his shower things and undressed, blushing at the damp mess in his boxers. While he waited for the water to run hot, he leaned against the sink, staring down his reflection in the mirror. 

"What the fuck, Black?" he said to the disheveled youth who blinked back at him, pale and stunned. 

The whole thing was absurd. He was not gay. How could he be? But even now, remembering the feel of Remus's body against his own, he was getting hard again. He sighed and stepped into the shower. 

As he saw it, he had two options. He could get out of the shower, get dressed, grab his pack, apologize to Remus, catch the next train out of the village, and get as far away from temptation as possible -- London, maybe, or even Paris -- or else he could go to bed with Remus and get whatever this was out of his system once and for all. At the thought of the second option, his cock gave a little jump, and he knew that the only way to keep it from making the decision for him was to take care of things himself. He tried not to think about Remus as he jerked himself off under the stream of hot water, but the whisky-eyed Scot would not leave his thoughts, and he came to the memory of the breathless Gaelic obscenity which had accompanied Remus's own climax under the tree. 

Sirius dressed slowly, buying himself time. He pulled on jeans and a tee-shirt, still wondering whether he was leaving or not. Stepping out of the bathroom, he padded down the stairs, his pack over his shoulder. He hesitated at the kitchen door. Remus glanced up from the sink, smiling in a way that made Sirius's insides shiver. 

"Och, there you are. I thought maybe you'd drowned yourself. Tea's just ready." He nodded toward the small wooden table in the corner, which contained bowls of savory stew and what looked like home-baked bread. 

It looked and smelled delicious. Sirius's stomach gave a soft rumble. Even if he decided to leave that evening, he should probably eat something first. He had not had much at lunch, and breakfast felt like it had happened years before. He set down his pack in the hallway and slid into one of the wooden chairs. 

The stew tasted as good as it smelled. 

"Did your aunt make it?" he asked, groping for a neutral topic of conversation. 

"Aye," said Remus. "The bread's mine, though." 

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "It's really good. No one in my family cooks." "It's no so difficult," Remus said with a shrug. "If a man must feed himself, he might as well learn to do a proper job of it." 

The decision to leave was still on the tip of Sirius's tongue as they cleared their dishes into the sink. He was beginning to be concerned that he did not just want to go to bed with Remus; he really _liked_ the man. Sirius was not prepared to think about what that might mean. He still had not managed to say anything about his plans when Remus announced that he was going upstairs to take a shower. 

"Auntie Fi hasna got so many videos, but you might enjoy this one while you're waiting," he said, popping a disc into the player. 

The video was of a Scottish standup comedian; easy entertainment that did not require too much thought, for which Sirius was grateful. Settling himself on the sofa, he kept his eyes on the screen, but listened with one ear to the rush of water through the pipes upstairs, imagining its warmth cascading over the young Scot's body. He wondered whether it might be better to just leave before Remus came back downstairs, but he knew that would be both rude and cowardly. He was still sitting there fifteen minutes later when Remus reappeared and decided Sirius's plans once and for all. 

His golden-brown hair was standing on end from being toweled dry, he wore a threadbare tee-shirt a size too small for him, flannel pajama pants, and an uncertain smile, and Sirius knew there was no way he was going anywhere that night. Remus padded to the sofa on bare feet and sat down beside him, close but not quite touching. 

"What do you think?" he asked, inclining his head toward the screen. 

Sirius shrugged. "I can only understand about half of what he says. But the half I do get is pretty funny. He doesn't sound anything like you." 

"Well, that's because I amna Glaswegian," Remus chuckled. "Would you like me to translate for you?" 

"No," said Sirius hesitantly. He was very aware of the warmth of the other man's body, close beside his own, and the scent of his freshly-washed hair, but he could not quite bring himself to look at him. "No, I think I want you to kiss me." 

"Do you, noo?" Remus said softly. 

He took a deep breath and made himself look at the Scot. Brown eyes. Ruddy cheeks. Soft lips. "Yes." 

Sirius held very still as Remus turned toward him. A hand with rough, reddened knuckles rose to stroke Sirius's jawline, and Remus leaned close, gently fitting their mouths together. Sirius parted his lips eagerly at the touch of Remus's tongue, but the Scot continued to move slowly, sliding an arm around Sirius's waist to draw him closer. 

For several minutes, they did nothing more than kiss, tasting and teasing, the desperation of their earlier encounter mitigated by the knowledge that they now had time and privacy to enjoy one another's company. 

"That was nice," admitted Sirius some moments later. 

"Aye, it was," Remus agreed, before Sirius captured his mouth again. 

They relaxed into a more comfortable position as they continued to kiss by the light of the television, until they were both reclining, Sirius lying half on top of the young Scot. It was very pleasant, kissing Remus. His lips were soft, he smelled good, and his fingers kept up a continuous soft caress on the back of Sirius's neck. Sirius might have been content to keep up the enjoyable activity for an hour or more, but his jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight. 

"Remus?" he murmured shyly against the other man's lips. 

"Hmmm?" 

"Are you -- um -- hard?" 

He thought he heard a catch in Remus's breathing. "Aye." 

Sirius gathered up all his courage. "Me, too. Could we -- maybe go to your room?" 

"Aye," said Remus again, pressing another tender kiss to Sirius's mouth. 

He stood, holding out a hand to draw Sirius to his feet. Fingers linked, they went upstairs, pausing only to switch off the DVD player. 

Sirius's heart was bounding off his ribs so loudly that he thought maybe Remus was just too polite to mention the noise. As the door to the small bedroom closed behind them, Sirius's mouth went dry, and he wondered again just what he thought he was doing. Averting his gaze from the narrow bed, he glanced around the room. 

His eyes lit on a small cluster of pill bottles standing on the bureau. Frowning, he tried to mentally sound out one of the unfamiliar words on a label, but Remus had seen where he was looking, and hastily swept the bottles into the top drawer, ears going red. 

"Are you sick or something?" Sirius asked. 

"It's nothing," said Remus. "Dinna trouble yourself." 

Remus turned toward him, and Sirius took an involuntary step backward, suddenly worried. "It's not -- AIDS or anything like that, is it?" 

Remus gave him a steady look. "Would it make a difference if it was?" 

"I -- I don't know," Sirius told him truthfully. "I don't know enough about it." 

Remus sighed, relenting. "I have Lupus. It isna contagious. I had myself tested for everything else last month, and I havena been with anyone since, so you needna fash yourself on that account." 

"But -- you're all right? I mean, you're well enough to -- do things?" Sirius felt his face go hot. Remus did not _look_ frail or sickly. 

He stepped toward him, taking Sirius hands, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I am today. Let's not waste it, aye?" 

Some of Sirius's worry must have shown on his face, because Remus squeezed his hands and said softly, "We dinna have to do anything. We can just lie doon for a bit. You can keep your troosers on, if you like." 

The situation in Sirius's jeans had not diminished by much since they had entered the room. "They're a bit -- um --" He licked his lips. 

Remus grinned. "Then take them off, and keep your pants on. I willna look." 

Sirius's fingers were clumsy as he fumbled with the fly of his jeans. By the time they were crumpled on the floor, Remus lay on the bed, hands folded behind his head, eyes closed. He might have promised not to look, but Sirius had done no such thing, and he took a moment to drink in the sight of the other man. Remus was long-limbed and slender, with very pale skin that showed a litter of pink scars all up and down his arms. The fabric of his pajama bottoms tented noticeably between his legs, and Sirius quickly averted his eyes. 

Hesitantly, he approached the bed, sitting down on the edge of it. 

Remus opened his eyes and sat up. "All right?" 

Sirius nodded. "But -- um -- won't your aunt wonder --?" 

"She'll ken fine what we're about. And she willna mind," Remus's mouth curved into a grin. "Auntie Fi likes the lassies more than I ever will. Why do you think I came here to get away from my parents?" 

"Oh." 

Remus's smile softened. "Come here, bonnie laddie." 

Entranced, Sirius lay down on the bed, facing the other man. The only touch between them was Remus's red-knuckled hand at his waist, thumb stroking the hint of exposed skin between Sirius's tee-shirt and boxers. Sirius shivered. 

"I'd verra much like for you to kiss me again," Remus said. 

Sirius was only too glad to comply. As soon as their lips touched, he began to relax a little, as if Remus's mouth held magical calming properties. Emboldened, Sirius drew closer, fingers drifting up Remus's neck to tangle in his soft honey-colored hair. Remus's hand slipped under his tee-shirt, caressing Sirius's ribs in a way that should have been ticklish, but instead made him shiver again, this time with delight. The Scot was warm and smelled good and soon Sirius was pressed fully against him, nuzzling the crook of his neck as he rubbed his erection against Remus's hip. 

"May I touch you?" asked Remus softly. 

Sirius did not trust his voice, but nodded into his shoulder. He held his breath as the hand on his ribs moved downward, thumb tracing just along the waistband of his boxers, before slipping between their bodies to cup him through the loose, thin fabric. Making a small sound, Sirius pressed against Remus's palm as fingers closed around him, squeezing and stroking gently. 

"What do you want to do?" the soft Scots voice asked. 

"I --" Sirius was finding it very difficult to think clearly with Remus's hand on him. All he knew was that he did not want Remus ever to stop touching him. "I d-don't know." 

Remus relaxed his grip, hand moving back to rest on Sirius's hip, and Sirius found that he was still able to breathe after all. 

"We can do anything you like," Remus reminded him. "I have protection." 

Sirius pressed his face deeper into Remus's shoulder in embarrassment. The words came out muffled. "I don't know how two guys -- do things." 

"Well, it isna so different from most o' the things you'd do with a lassie." There was a smile in Remus's voice. 

Sirius drew back, looking plaintively into Remus's face. "But I haven't -- I've never. With a girl." 

Remus looked startled for a moment, then nodded. "Aye, I see. I didna ken I had a maiden in my bed. Dinna trouble yourself; I'll show you what to do. If you'll trust me?" 

Sirius bit his lip. "Will it hurt?" 

Remus suppressed a smile and kissed him on the forehead. "Nay, we willna do anything like what you're thinking of, if you dinna want to. There are plenty o' other ways you'll like better, the first time." 

Sirius looked into the eyes of the man he had met barely twenty-four hours before. "I trust you." 

Remus grinned, but there was a softness in his eyes. "Well, first we must get you undressed," he said. "And then we must get under the covers. The sheets are easy to wash, but Auntie Fi will give me a bollocking if we make a mess o' her good counterpane." 

Sirius laughed, and some of the tightness in his chest eased. It gave him the courage to tug Remus's tee-shirt over his head, while Remus, still grinning wickedly, helped him off with his own. They got up so that Remus could pull back the blankets, and kissed some more, standing in the middle of the room, enjoying the feel of skin on skin. Remus's hands slid over his shoulders and down his back, fingertips slipping under the waistband of Sirius's boxers. 

"All right?" he asked. 

Sirius nodded, and Remus kissed him again, pushing the fabric down over his hips. He helped the Scot slide the shorts past his knees and onto the floor, and before he could let himself think too much about his own nakedness, Sirius's hands went to the drawstring of Remus's pajamas, tugging it loose and pushing them down. His eyes stayed fixed on Remus's face -- he did not feel ready to look just yet -- and Remus moved toward him, eyes dark and earnest, fitting their mouths together, and there was _so much skin_ touching everywhere that Sirius felt dizzy. 

"Will you come to bed with me, bonnie laddie?" Remus asked in a low, rough whisper. 

In answer, Sirius kissed him again, quick and fierce. " _Yes_." 

Remus stepped back, drawing Sirius with him and pulling him down onto the bed. Sirius could not seem to get enough of the other man -- could not stop kissing him and running his hands over Remus's body. Then Remus rolled on top of him and Sirius felt their naked erections rub together, and he moaned, back arching up off the bed. 

"Hang on a mo'," Remus panted, mouth pulling away from Sirius's. He rolled sideways to rummage in the drawer of the nightstand, finally picking out a mangled tube of something. 

"What's that?" Sirius asked. 

"Lube," Remus told him. "It makes things slippery, aye?" 

"Oh." 

Sirius watched as Remus squeezed a small amount of a clear, viscous substance onto his fingers. He rubbed them together briefly, then slipped his hand between them, a finger teasing around the head of Sirius's cock. 

" _Oh!_ " said Sirius again, in an entirely different tone, eyes going wide. 

"Och, you like that, do you?" Remus chuckled, running a loose fist over Sirius's shaft. "I thought you might. I do as well, you ken." He pressed the tube into Sirius's hand. 

Sirius licked his lips, and with trembling fingers, squeezed a dollop of the stuff onto his palm, then looked up at Remus for guidance. "You want me to -- touch you?" 

The mischief vanished from Remus's eyes. "Verra much." 

He took Sirius by the wrist and guided his slick hand down to wrap around his erection. Sirius forgot to breathe as he watched Remus's eyes slide closed, breath coming in panting gasps as his fingers explored the thick, hard shaft and smooth head of the other man's penis. 

After a moment, Remus pushed his hand away. "Too much," he grunted. 

"What do you want to do?" asked Sirius, trying to sound braver than he felt. 

Remus opened his eyes, a hungry look in their golden depths that sent a thrill of nervous excitement through Sirius's belly. In a swift movement, he rolled to straddle Sirius's hips, pressing him flat against the bed as he laced their well-lubricated fingers together against the sheets and leaned in for a kiss. 

"I want to suck you off. If you dinna mind?" He grinned. "I am _verra_ good at it." 

"You _want_ to do that?" Sirius asked, surprised. He had always assumed that was the sort of thing people enjoyed having done to them more than doing. 

In answer, Remus planted a hard, sucking bite on Sirius's throat, then moved down his body, dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses along the way. Sirius watched, heart racing, breath coming in shallow gasps, as Remus urged his thighs apart, settling himself between them and bending his head. 

The first delicate lick made Sirius jump and gasp with the sharp, sudden pleasure of it, and then Remus's lips slid over the head, and he was surrounded by heat and slow suction and -- _Oh!_ So _that_ was what the tongue stud was for. The overwhelming sensation of pressure and heat and friction, coupled with the sight of his cock disappearing into Remus's mouth was almost enough to undo him right then and there. 

" _Fuck_ ," he groaned, reaching a hand down to anchor himself on the shoulder of the man pleasuring him, struggling not to come quite yet. 

Remus gazed up at him steadily, a feral glint in his golden eyes, and drew Sirius's cock deeper into his mouth. It was no good; Sirius could not hold back a second longer. Remus's hands tightened on his thighs, holding him still, mouth sliding up and down, as Sirius climaxed loudly, hands and heels scrabbling for purchase against the bed sheets. 

He collapsed onto the pillows, eyes closed, abdominal muscles quivering. When he felt Remus move up to lie beside him once more, he opened his eyes to find the Scot looking down at him with a curious half-smile. 

Hesitantly, Sirius pushed himself up on an elbow and pressed his lips to Remus's, tongue flicking in to taste the Scot's mouth. There was a slightly bittersweet tang, but there was nothing disgusting or alarming about the flavor. He drew back and glanced down, watching Remus stroke himself. 

"That was amazing," Sirius said, licking his lips nervously. "Do you want me to --?" 

"You dinna have to," Remus told him. "But, aye, I do like it." 

"I want to try," said Sirius. 

He squirmed down the bed until he was face-to-face with the other man's erection. It was bigger than his own, and from this vantage point, he could not help feeling a little intimidated. Summoning up his courage, he squeezed his eyes shut, bent his head, and delicately licked the slit. The flavor was different from his own taste on Remus's tongue, but still nothing scary. 

"Mmm," sighed Remus, settling back onto the pillows. 

Emboldened, Sirius opened his mouth wider, and slid it down over the Scot's erection. He tried to take too much at once and jerked back, coughing and gagging, before trying again. Cautiously, Sirius closed his lips around the head and gave a gentle suck. He knew he was not doing anywhere near the expert job Remus had done on him, but from the ragged breathing and soft curses coming from the direction of the pillows, he thought Remus might be enjoying it anyway. Taking a little initiative, Sirius wrapped a hand around the shaft and pumped it up and down as he continued to lick and suck at the head. 

"Sirius --" gasped a shaky Scots voice, "-- you should stop if you dinna want --" 

But he found that he _did_ want. Drawing Remus as deeply into his mouth as he dared, he gave him a hard suck. Remus groaned loudly and the cock in Sirius's mouth twitched as bitter fluid shot out onto his tongue. It was not much -- Remus had come once already only a few hours before -- and Sirius found he had little difficulty swallowing it. 

"Sorry," he said, crawling up to lie beside the other man once more. "I know it probably wasn't very good." 

Remus made a low growling sound and wrapped his arms around Sirius, pulling him close for a long kiss. 

"You did verra well," the young Scot assured him. "Thank you." 

It was a warm June night, even with the window open. They pushed off the blankets to lie naked in the circle of each other's arms for a long time, silently exchanging small touches and occasional kisses. 

Sirius's thumb grazed along the edge of Remus's hipbone, and he gave tentative voice to something he had wondered about earlier, but had been too distracted at the time to mention it. "You look different. I mean --" He waved an embarrassed hand over their genitals, lying at rest in close proximity to one another. 

"Aye." Remus shifted the position of his shoulders, drawing Sirius closer against his side. "That's because you're cut and I'm not." 

"Cut?" Sirius frowned. "How do you mean?" 

"Circumcised," Remus clarified. "It isna so common here." 

"Oh." 

Sirius knew the term, of course, but had only a vague idea of what it entailed. Growing up, all of his friends and the boys in the locker room at school had looked more or less like him, so he had always assumed that the way he looked was normal, and therefore, natural. It was one more assumption about himself and his life that meeting Remus had called into question. 

Without thinking, Sirius's fingers drifted over Remus's abdomen to rest lightly on the other man's limp penis. He heard Remus draw a sharp breath, but the Scot said nothing. Taking this as tacit permission to continue his exploration, Sirius closed his fingers around the object, stroking it experimentally up and down, fascinated by the way the foreskin rolled forward and backward to hide or reveal the head. He was even more fascinated when the foreskin pulled back on its own as Remus's cock began to swell and fill again under his touch. The sight had a similar effect on his own anatomy, and when Remus's hand moved to wrap around him, Sirius made a sound of pleasure low in his throat. 

They lay for a moment, lazily stroking one another as their mouths blended together in a slow, humid kiss. 

"D'you want to try something a bit different?" Remus asked when Sirius began rubbing up against him once more. 

"Like what?" 

Remus hesitated. "It's -- a way of fucking, but it's easier and safer. It doesna hurt," he added quickly, seeing the question forming in Sirius's eyes. 

"What would I have to do?" Sirius asked, biting his lip. 

"You dinna need to do anything difficult," said Remus, kissing him again. "Just lie back and press your legs tight tegeither, aye? I'll see to the rest." 

That did not sound bad, or like the start of anything painful. Sirius did as Remus bade him, lying back against the pillows, while Remus retrieved the lube from the rumpled bedsheets and rubbed more of it over his fingers. He spent a few minutes kissing Sirius, fondling his cock and balls with a slippery hand, silently urging him to relax, before sliding the hand between his thighs, coating them with lube. Remus slicked his own cock, too, then moved to kneel over Sirius, knees planted on either side of Sirius's own. 

He flashed an encouraging smile. "Ready?" 

Still feeling a little nervous, Sirius nodded and squeezed the muscles of his thighs tightly together as Remus had instructed him. He watched in fascination as Remus bent over him, resting his weight on one elbow, and guided his erection into the slippery space between Sirius's thighs. The top of Remus's shaft slid along the underside of Sirius's balls, and he gasped and shivered as the slippery head dragged across his anus. It felt dirty, scandalous, and shockingly pleasurable all at once. 

"All right?" murmured Remus, nuzzling his ear. 

"Yeah," Sirius sighed. "For you?" 

"Aye." 

Remus raised his hips and pushed down again, and then again, slowly at first, then faster. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure sparking through Sirius, and he canted his hips up, seeking more of that delicious, filthy friction. 

"Touch yourself," Remus urged. 

Sirius complied, slipping a hand between their straining bodies to grasp his swollen cock, tugging and squeezing at the same rapid tempo with which Remus pounded between his thighs. Sirius writhed beneath him as pleasure rippled through his groin, every breath a panting whimper. His free arm twined around Remus's waist, fingers gripping his ass, urging him on, feeling the frantic clench and release of his muscles as he moved. 

Remus ran his tongue up Sirius's throat. "Gods, you're gorgeous when you're being fucked," he panted. "Want to hear you come." 

And -- _god_ \-- Sirius had been close already, but at Remus's words, he arched up, body convulsing. The wailing cry that tore from his throat expressed more accurately than words ever could exactly what it felt like to be fucked by Remus Lupin. 

" _Christ_ ," grunted Remus, hips stuttering and jerking and losing their rhythm. 

Sirius felt the Scot's erection jump and pulse between his legs, felt hot spunk coat his thighs and run down the cleft of his ass, eliciting a final twitch from his own cock. 

He lay, stunned, covered in sweat and lube and another man's come, as well as his own. He did not think he had ever felt so sated in his life. Remus was limp and heavy in his arms. Sirius thought for a moment that the other man had fallen asleep until Remus rolled onto his back, scrubbing the less-sticky of his hands over his face. 

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled. 

"No, Sirius Black," Sirius grinned, feeling breathless and giddy. "I know it's easy to confuse the two, but I hope you haven't forgotten my name already." 

Remus cocked an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean I shouldna ask you how the second coming was?" 

Sirius snorted. "I'd say 'miraculous', but that makes it sound like I wasn't expecting it to be any good." 

"Oh. So you liked it?" 

"You couldn't tell?" 

Remus managed to look both embarrassed and pleased with himself. "Aye, you did, then. I wouldna be surprised if my parents heard you all the way doon in Edinburgh. I'll be getting a stern letter from them in a day or two, nay doot. _Och, Remus!_ " he intoned, putting on an absurd falsetto. " _First boys, and noo tourists? Have ye nay shame, lad?_" 

Sirius had not quite finished laughing by the time Remus returned from the bathroom with a damp hand towel. There was no way to deal with the mess they had made that had any dignity to it, so he just turned away and wiped himself wherever he seemed to need it as quickly as possible, before dropping the soiled towel onto the floor beside the bed. 

Turning back, he found Remus looking at him with a solemn expression. The Scot raised a hand to brush the hair gently back from Sirius's cheek. 

"You dinna have to stay," he said softly. "You can still kip on the sofa, if that's more comfortable for you." 

Sirius did not even need to think about it. Tomorrow he would go, and he would probably never see Remus again. When he got home, he knew, the shape of his life would be altered forever in large and small ways because of their chance encounter. But for now, he was not going to waste a single moment of the time he had left with this warm, funny, thoughtful man sleeping on any sofa. With a contented sigh, Sirius curled himself against Remus's side, head pillowed on his shoulder. 

The Scot gave a huff of laughter and wrapped an arm around him. "Nay, you arena queer at all, are you?" he teased. 

Sirius had no answer for that, so he said nothing, only snuggled closer, breathing in Remus's scent. 

Not long after that, Remus fell asleep, one arm still cradling Sirius against his chest, but Sirius lay awake, staring out the window as the moon rose in the clear night sky. 

_I had sex with a man,_ he thought, testing himself to see how he felt about it. _Really amazing sex. I lost my virginity to Remus Lupin._

His mind was quiet. There was no regret or disgust over anything they had done. He felt only a quiet sense of elation. After a time, he slept.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song:** "Ae Fond Kiss" by Robert Burns

  
_Ae fond kiss, and the we sever;_  
_Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!_  
_Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,_  
_Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!_  


The early June sunlight streaming through the open window nudged Sirius into consciousness. His eyes blinked slowly open to find the still-peacefully-slumbering face of Remus Lupin inches from his own. Sirius grinned, raising himself carefully onto one elbow, so as not to disturb the sleeping man. Remus really was a pleasure to look at; soft, pink lips relaxed in sleep, dark-gold lashes swept down against the redness of his cheek, sunlight revealing a light dusting of freckles across his shoulders. Sleep lent his features a childlike innocence, completely at odds with Sirius's memories of the night before. 

Necessity finally drove him out of the warm bed and to the bathroom, snagging the bathrobe hanging on the back of the door on his way. He exchanged a grin with his reflection in the mirror, noting the dark reddish-purple mark at the base of his throat, before returning to the bedroom to find Remus smiling sleepily at him. 

"Still here, are you?" 

Sirius's grin widened. "Looks like." 

He dropped the bathrobe onto the floor and slid back under the covers and into Remus's arms. Their long, slow "good morning" kiss gradually turned into something more heated. 

"One more time. Please?" Sirius begged when he felt hardness pressing against his thigh. 

Remus nodded, and Sirius rolled over to grab the lube off the nightstand, squeezing a generous amount onto his palm. He slicked himself and rolled on top of Remus, clumsily doing the same for him. Then their slippery erections were sliding together and Remus was sighing and moaning into his mouth. There was no art nor imagination to the act; only desperate need and heart-pounding pleasure. When Sirius came, grinding his hips down hard, he sobbed out Remus's name. 

Remus's eyes flew wide, and he looked suddenly stricken. " _Oh!_ " he cried as his body went taut, his own come mingling with Sirius's between their bellies. 

For a long moment after, as their breathing and heart rates steadied, Remus's arms remained around him. Then Remus crooked a finger, lifting Sirius's chin to give him a tender, lingering kiss, and rolled them over onto their sides, sliding out of bed with a regretful sigh. He bent to pick up the crumpled bathrobe as Sirius sat up. 

"I'm just going to grab a quick shower," he said, turning toward the door. "I'll bring your things when I come back, and you can take your turn." 

Somewhat disappointed that Remus had not invited him to shower with him, Sirius leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve the still-damp and slightly-crusty hand towel they had used the night before, mopping himself up. He settled back on the bed to wait for Remus, looking around the room for the first time. 

Remus might be only a part-time resident at the house, but this was still obviously his room. Books of geology, history, poetry, and fiction were stacked on the nightstand and wedged between bookends across the bureau. Curious stones and a few fossils littered every flat surface. A photo of Remus's family was pinned to the wall over the bed. Remus looked about fifteen in it. He had his mother's face and his father's smile and an arm draped around the shoulders of his younger sister. Looking at it made Sirius feel a little sad, knowing Remus was currently at odds with his family over his sexual orientation. It also made him wonder what, if anything, he would say to his own family when he returned home. 

A few minutes later Remus reappeared, Sirius's pack in hand, blushing furiously. 

"What's up?" Sirius asked. 

"Auntie Fiona," the Scot muttered. "She's made breakfast, whenever you're ready." 

He shrugged out of the bathrobe and handed it to Sirius, then turned to pull fresh clothes out of the bureau. Sirius put his legs out of bed and briefly admired Remus's bare backside and long legs before pulling on the still-warm robe. 

By the time he finished his shower, Remus had gone downstairs. Sirius hung up the bathrobe and dug fresh boxers and socks out of his pack, before putting on the tee-shirt and jeans he had worn the day before. 

He felt a lump in the pocket of his jeans, and pulled out the small chunk of granite Remus had given him. He stared at it. Had it really been less that twenty-four hours ago that Remus had placed the stone in his hand? Shaking his head, he returned it to his pocket and stuffed his laundry into the depths of his pack before heading downstairs. 

Remus's aunt greeted him with a cheery, "Good morning," and shooed him toward the table, where Remus sat, looking blotchy and disgruntled, nursing a mug of tea. A moment later, a second mug was delivered to the table, as well as two plates, piled with various fried foods. 

"Thank you, Ma'am," Sirius said politely. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble." 

"Aye, well, I was already up and about," she said, eyeing the base of his throat where his tee-shirt did not quite conceal the mark Remus had left him. "Nigh on impossible for a lass to sleep with the stramash you pair o' rabbits were making. Did I no tell you he liked you fine, laddie?" She beamed and ruffled her nephew's hair. 

Sirius's mouth dropped open and he glanced at Remus, who grimaced and rolled his eyes. 

"I -- um --" Sirius stammered, face growing hot. "Sorry if we --" 

"Och, dinna fash yourself, lad," the woman chuckled, giving him a broad wink. "If you had a good night, that's all that matters. From the sound o' things, wee Remus kent what he was about." 

Remus's ears reddened, and he buried his nose in his mug, looking as if he would very much like the earth to swallow him up. 

Sirius dropped his eyes to his plate. "Um, yeah. Thanks for breakfast. This looks great." 

He shoveled a large forkful of fried potatoes into his mouth to fend off any further attempts at conversation, wondering when exactly she had arrived home the night before and how much she had overheard. Remus probably would not hear the end of it for weeks. 

"Aye," she said, still grinning. "Eat up, lad. You'll need to keep your strength up if you're heading into the mountains today." 

It was only after breakfast, as Sirius refilled his water bottle from the kitchen faucet, that his embarrassment lifted enough for him to think about the fact that he would be leaving in a few minutes, and in all likelihood, would not see Remus again. The thought caused a slight constriction in his chest, and a thickness at the back of his throat that troubled him. In the pub the day before, Remus had said that, whatever else happened, when Sirius left the village, they would go their separate ways, and that would be the end of it. That was probably the reason why Remus seemed so withdrawn this morning. Since he had gotten out of bed, he had barely spoken to Sirius, and had not touched him once. 

Sirius felt like he wanted to say something to Remus, but he was not sure what, and before he had a chance to figure it out, they were standing at the front door, Sirius adjusting the straps on his pack to ease the fit across his shoulders. Thankfully, Fiona had retreated back upstairs, giving the two of them a moment's privacy. 

"Well," said Sirius awkwardly. 

"Here," Remus held out a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it. "There's a good hostel in Inverness, if you get up that way. A friend o' mine works there." 

"Thanks." Impulsively, Sirius tore a strip from the paper. "Do you have a pen?" 

Scribbling as legibly as he could manage, he handed the paper back to Remus. 

"My email address," he said. "In case you --" 

"Aye," said Remus, staring doubtfully at the slip of paper. 

"And I've still got this." Sirius reached into his pocket and held out the granite pebble. "A piece of this place to take with me. So I won't forget." 

"Aye," Remus said again. His mouth softened into a half-smile, which gave Sirius the courage to lean forward and kiss him one last time. Remus let it happen, but did not return the kiss, and after a moment Sirius drew back, disappointed. 

"Thank you," he said softly, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. 

Remus nodded. "Safe journey." 

Sirius turned and walked down the path, stepping out onto the road that led north out of the village. He did not let himself look back. 

* * *

The Cairngorms rose from a high plateau in a series of rolling green and brown hills, sudden soaring granite crags, and hidden pools of dark water. Sirius allowed himself to become lost in them. They were nothing like his own understanding of mountains, but there was something imposing about them, all the same. He knew that, so long as he kept heading roughly north, eventually he would find the main road and civilization again, but for the time being, the mountains were an apt metaphor for the wilderness he wandered in his own mind. 

Alone in the quiet of nature, there was little for Sirius to do but walk and think. The thoughts taking up the most space in his mind had to do with his own identity. Sirius was not introspective by nature, and had never given his own sexuality much consideration. There had been no reason to. From time to time, he had thought about what it might be like to kiss this or that boy, but he had never experienced a strong attraction to another male before now. Not his friends. Not the boys from his school. But then, he had not met anyone quite like Remus Lupin before, either. He had never been sex-obsessed the way other boys his age often seemed to be, and he had always just assumed that meant he possessed more self-restraint than his peers. 

Confusion muted the fierce joy he had felt during the early days of his travels at the independence of being alone in a strange country, and with confusion came loneliness. He wished James were with him. It would have been good to talk things over with his best friend. James Potter had a practical, humorous way of looking at the world that would have been a great comfort under the circumstances. Sirius was not sure how James would take the news that he was perhaps not quite as straight as he had always assumed, but he hoped it would not cause any awkwardness between them. He could not imagine not telling his best friend what had happened. 

Sirius had a brief moment of worry that he might be attracted to James in a way that he had not previously considered. After all, he was powerfully fond of his best friend -- would go so far as to say that he loved him -- and the two of them had been close for years. But no; James was like a brother to him, sometimes more so than Regulus. Over the course of their friendship, Sirius had seen the other boy naked dozens of times. The sight of James's bottom, well-shaped as it was, had never stirred him. 

Besides James, there were his parents to consider. Sirius did not want to discuss the details of his personal life with them, but when they asked him why he was splitting up with Venice Corbet, he would have to tell them something. He could not stay with her. His experiences with Remus had shown him in stark contrast exactly how little passion she inspired in him. The thought of a lifetime built on the bland white noise of their relationship was too horrific to contemplate. She would be furious, but probably not heartbroken; she had never displayed much warmth toward him, either. 

And then there was his brother. Regulus was sixteen, and while he had always been less rebellious than Sirius, he looked up to his older brother. Sirius might offer his parents vague excuses for dumping his girlfriend, but could he lie to Regulus? If he did tell the truth, how might the younger boy react to the news that the brother he so admired had slept with a man? That gave Sirius more anxiety than anything else. He did not think it was possible to lose James's friendship, and his relationship with his parents was rocky at the best of times, but if Regulus were forced to choose between his loyalty to his brother and their parents' ideals, especially while he was still living at home, Sirius was not certain of his own chances. 

By the time he made camp, Sirius's mind was almost as weary as his body. He dropped his pack on a gently-sloping, heather-fuzzed hillside overlooking a small stream -- a burn, Remus would have called it -- stretching his neck, back, and shoulders before flopping onto the ground with a sigh. If the weather stayed fine, he would not need to pitch his tent or go to the trouble of building a fire, and the west-facing slope meant a long, slow sunset. 

Digging through his pack for something to eat that did not require much preparation, Sirius came across his travel journal. He held it in his lap, staring at the cover for a moment before opening it. He had written nothing since the night at the hostel after meeting Remus for the first time. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he read over the last few sentences. 

> _Heading up to the distillery in the morning. Local bartender offered to show me the way. Was he hitting on me? Guess I'll find out tomorrow._

His eyes rested on the blank lines of the following page, and the smile faded from his lips. The thought of committing the experiences of the past two days to writing struck him as both daunting and terrifying. Even if he could find the words to do justice to everything that had happened, how could he put something so personal down in black and white like that, where anyone might find and read it? But skipping over it or pretending it had not happened would be unfair, both to Remus and to himself, and ignoring the impact the experience had had on him would transform everything he wrote thereafter into a lie. 

Fishing a pen out of his pack, he settled into a more comfortable position and began to write, casting his mind back to the misty morning walk through the hills to the distillery. He wrote slowly, pausing often, trying to recall exactly how Remus had described the land, capturing the Scot's words as best he could. When he came to the whisky tasting, it was not the flavor of the golden liquor in the glass that he remembered, but the taste of it on Remus's lips. 

_I kissed him,_ he wrote of that strange and sudden tipping point, _and he kissed me._

Cheeks flushing at the memory, Sirius hurried through Remus's proposition to him in the pub, recording only the bare facts of the conversation, but slowed when he came to describe the Den. Again, he tried to remember Remus's words exactly, wanting to convey the air of ancient mystery and beauty that hung over the place. 

_There is power in some things,_ he wrote. _Words and blood and sex and the connections between people and places._

He thought he understood now what Remus had been talking about. Idly, he sketched the lines of the Celtic knot in the margin, pondering the nature of the connection forged between himself and the young Scot. 

In the end, he did not record many intimate details; there was no need. Sirius knew he would never forget a moment of what he and Remus had shared, and it was not anyone else's business. 

_I kept thinking I should leave,_ he wrote. _I knew if I didn't that something would happen. But I guess I wanted it to. I kissed him. I pushed him up against the tree in the Den. I asked him to kiss me during the movie. I asked to go to bed with him. I wanted it. I wanted him. I still do,_ he added, shifting uncomfortably. The denim across his groin had grown tight with the memories he recorded, but he ignored it and pressed on. _It was good. It was better than good. When he touched me, I felt more alive and real than I ever have before. I don't know what any of it meant, but **I don't regret it.**_ He scrawled the last words so fiercely that they almost tore through the page. 

The sun hung low in the sky by the time he closed the journal. His hand and wrist ached from writing, and he was ravenously hungry. After an unsatisfactory dinner of cold beans, slightly-squashed bread, and water from the stream, he kicked off his boots, socks, and jeans, and squirmed down into his sleeping bag, eyelids drooping. 

On the borders of sleep, dream blended with memory. Bare skin pressed against his own, a hot mouth caressed his throat, and a hand closed around his aching cock. Sirius woke with a strangled cry, and hastily unzipped his sleeping bag to avoid making a mess of it. As it was, his boxers were a lost cause. With a sigh, he shucked them off, wiping himself dry with the edges, and shoved them under his pack. 

_At this rate, I'll need to do laundry again in a few days,_ he thought grumpily, unsettled by the immediacy of the vision and its effect on him. 

He had had arousing dreams before, but never focussed so specifically on a person. Remus was supposed to be out of his system now. That had been the whole point of the exercise. Good as the experience had been, it was over now, and he was moving on. 

* * *

Dawn came early to Scotland in June, and though the surrounding hills blocked the sun for a time, by five o'clock Sirius had given up trying to sleep anymore. The air was cool, and he shivered as he hurried into his clothes and packed away his sleeping bag, washing down a handful of dry cereal with cold water. 

Walking warmed him, and the ruggedness of the terrain forced him to focus his mind on something other than the events of the last few days. The beauty and majesty of the countryside gradually began to break back into Sirius's consciousness. Scotland's striking landscapes and dramatic skies would not allow themselves to be ignored or treated as mere scenery. When he stopped for lunch on a rocky lookout, Sirius took out his camera and snapped a few pictures. He even tried sketching the shapes of the land, but was frustrated by his inability to captured the feel of the place. 

Words failed him, too, when the time came to write up his wanderings at the end of the day. Without having the names for the plants and geological formations he saw, Sirius found it nearly impossible to compose a description of the place that did it any kind of justice. Instead, he dug deeper in his pack, coming up with a small set of colored pencils, and spent an hour or two dedicating himself to the task of translating the landscape into shapes and colors. 

By the time he resurfaced from his artist's trance, Sirius was very thirsty. He set the journal aside and walked down the long slope to refill his water bottle from the stream that passed between the hills. As he wiped a stray droplet from his chin after quenching his thirst, an odd glint of light caught his eye, and he dipped a hand back into the chilly water. 

The lump of quartz was smaller than his fist, and a homely brown color, but the way the setting sun shone through it and reflected from its angled surfaces made Sirius think of the water itself, as if a piece of the Scottish burn had broken off and crystalized in his hand. It was nothing like the granite or other dull gray and ruddy brown stones that filled the stream bed and lay scattered upon the slopes of the hills. Sirius wondered what it was and where it had come from. 

_Remus would know._

He smiled, picturing the young Scot kneeling on the bank beside him, eyes cast down, the stone cradled lovingly in his palm. But it was like watching a silent movie. Remus's mouth moved as his thumb caressed the smooth facets of the crystal, but Sirius did not have the words to put there. 

A wave of loneliness washed over him. He wished he and Remus had had more time to talk. He would have liked to hear more of Remus's thoughts about the land and its history. What it was like to feel so connected to a place. How he had gone about coming out to his family and friends. He had a sense that Remus was centered in his life, knowing where he belonged, in a way that Sirius himself did not, and he envied that. Sirius might have money and all the privilege that came with it, but he sometimes felt that in every way that mattered, he was just drifting. 

A light evening breeze ruffled his hair as he sat on the hillside, watching the sun angle down over the horizon, still holding the brown crystal in his hand. It worried him that Remus continued to occupy his thoughts so completely. If it had only been memories of the man's naked, hungry body pressed against his own, that would be one thing. Sirius would have understood that. But he spent an equal amount of time lingering over memories of Remus, hands in his pockets, staring out over a misty valley; Remus, smiling invitingly at him from across the bar; Remus, eyes closed, savoring the taste of fine whisky; Remus, tying a pebble to the branch of a tree with a ragged bit of yarn. Just as Remus felt connected to the land of his birth, so Scotland had become inextricably bound to Remus in Sirius's mind, and he was having difficulty separating his ever-growing wonder and fondness for the place from his feelings about the other man. 

Sirius took up the journal again, setting the crystal in his lap, and wrote, _How can I miss you when I barely know you? It doesn't make sense. I can't stop thinking about you. I wish I could talk to you again. Just talk._

Well, perhaps not _just_ talk. Not all of his thoughts about Remus were innocent, and talk that ended with another unforgettable night in Remus's bed would certainly be preferable to talk that did not. His cock throbbed, and Sirius knew that if he wanted to get another day's use out of his underwear, he would need to engage in a little strategic self-pleasure before he slept. 

Resigned, he stowed the journal and the stone in his pack and dug a few crumpled tissues out of a side pocket. Lying back on the heathered hillside, Sirius unzipped his jeans and slid a hand into his boxers. He did not even pretend to try not to think about the man who so occupied his thoughts. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he gazed up into the evening sky, imagining eyes as intoxicating as whisky. 

" _Remus ...._ "


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song:** "Loch Lomond" (Traditional)

  
_Still fair is the scene, but ah, how changed_  
_Are the hopes which sae strongly we cherished._  
_Like a watery gleam, like a summer's dream,_  
_On Culloden field they hae perished._  


Sirius arrived in Aviemore two days later, grubby and exhausted and far too late to find anywhere to stay for the night. After camping on the outskirts of the town, he decided he was tired of walking everywhere, and caught a bus up the A9 to Inverness. 

The city was much smaller than Sirius had expected the capital of the Highlands to be. His guidebook claimed that it had been founded no later than the sixth century, but nothing of what he saw flickering past the window of the bus looked very old, even to Sirius's American eyes. The hostel whose address Remus had given him was only a few minutes' walk from the bus station, near the town center. 

"I know it's early," he said, flashing his most charming smile at the redhead behind the desk in the small, cluttered office, "but do you think I could check in? I really need a shower." 

"Aye." She gave him an appreciative once-over of the sort that he was used to receiving from young women, and pulled a clipboard from under a stack of papers. "'Tis nay bother. I'll just need to sign you in. What's your name?" 

"Sirius Black." 

Her eyebrows rose, and she gave him a second, more thorough assessment, this time accompanied by an approving smirk. "Oh, aye? Remus did say you might be up this way. I'm Lily Evans. Remus and I went to school tegeither." Green eyes lingered speculatively on the fading bruise at the base of his throat. 

"Pleased to meet you," he mumbled, ducking his head to hide a blush as he filled out the sign-in sheet. How much had Remus told her? 

"So -- er -- what is there to see around here?" he asked when further conversation became unavoidable. 

"Well, that depends on the sort o' things you like." She leaned back in her chair, still eyeing him speculatively. "There are no so many clubs, but there are one or two places, if you're looking to meet people?" Her winged brows lifted in question. 

"Um -- not really," he said quickly. "What about -- er -- old stuff? Museums and things?" 

"Oh, aye. There's the Museum and Art Gallery up on Castle Wynd above the river. And before you ask, nay, it isna old." 

"Art is good," said Sirius, brightening somewhat. 

"Most o' the folk who come up this way looking for history go out east o' toon to Culloden and Clava Cairns. They're about five miles out, but there are plenty o' coaches." 

"Thanks." Sirius picked up his pack, eager to escape the redhead's knowing gaze. "If that's everything --" 

"There's Moniack Castle as well," she added. "Remus and I visited just after school finished. It's a winery just outside o' Beauly. Remus liked the mead." 

"Oh." Sirius hesitated. Remus, eyes closed, savoring liquid gold, stirred in his memory. "Where's that?" 

Her smile widened. "About ten miles to the west. If you get a coach into Beauly, the walk isna far." She took out a brochure and opened it to an area map, circling a few things before handing it to him. 

"Thanks." Then he gave up and asked the question he had been wanting to ask since she had mentioned knowing Remus. "Were there -- any messages for me?" 

Her brows lifted again, and she cocked her head to one side. "Nay, but if you've a message for Remus, I can pass it along next time I speak to him." 

"No, that's all right," he said quickly, swallowing his disappointment. There was nothing he wanted to say to Remus that he felt comfortable sharing with a third party. Maybe Remus felt the same way. "What about somewhere I can check my email?" 

She gave him a sympathetic look and directions to the public library, and he thanked her again before beating a hasty retreat from her presence. 

After he had showered and put on clean clothes, Sirius headed into the town center, glad to be able to walk somewhere without the weight of a pack across his shoulders. He glanced at the map the woman had given him, had a brief internal argument with himself, and turned in the direction of the library. "No email" had been one of the rules for his trip, but he reasoned that he was just going to look, and he would not answer anything that was not from Remus, who, after all, was part of his travels. 

But there was nothing. He sat in the hard plastic chair, staring at the screen for several minutes. Two messages from his parents. Four from Venice. One each from James and Regulus. Nothing from Remus. With a sigh, he selected the messages from his parents and girlfriend, and deleted them, unread. 

He hesitated a moment before clicking on the one from James. It was a brief missive, asking how his trip was going, and what day he would be home. Again, Sirius thought about how good it would be to talk to his best friend. Then he broke his own rule and hit _reply_. 

> _J,_
> 
> _Scotland is amazing. I can't even begin to describe it. I'm in Inverness right now, and I walked most of the way here from Edinburgh. So much has happened. I wish you were here so I could tell you all about it. I met someone. I don't know if it meant anything. I'll call you when I get home on the 26th._
> 
> _S_

His finger hovered over the _send_ button for a moment. This was his last chance not to tell James about Remus. If he told him this much, he would have to tell him everything. Sirius closed his eyes, held his breath, and clicked. 

Having broken his rule once already, he felt less compunction about opening the message from his brother, which was similar in content to James's. Sirius still had not decided what he was going to tell Regulus, so his reply was shorter and more ambiguous. 

> _Regs,_
> 
> _You can tell Mother and Father that I'm alive and well. Scotland is beautiful. You should see it. So much to tell you when I get home._
> 
> _S_

After sending the second message, he clicked _check mail_ compulsively a few more times, but no new messages appeared. Apparently Remus had nothing to say to him after all. 

Feeling dejected, Sirius wandered over to the museum and art gallery, in the hope that immersing himself in one of his other interests might distract him from his disappointment. 

Unlike the exhibitions he was used to, the Inverness gallery was not filled with paintings and sculptures, but rather with ancient artifacts and carvings from Scotland's distant past. The artistry and attention to detail with which the stylized shapes and strange beasts had been crafted fascinated Sirius. Opening his journal, he began to sketch the lines of an elegantly carved wolf. As he drew, he wondered idly what Remus might have told him about the stone it was carved from and the history of the people who had made it. He snapped the journal shut in a burst of annoyance. 

_He's over it,_ he thought fiercely. _I should be, too._

But it did not seem to matter where he went or what he did; Remus was everywhere. The ancient stone monuments of Clava Cairns were impressive, but they lacked the magic of the Den, in Sirius's opinion. A wedding party posed for a photographer at the entrance to one of the cairns, and the handful of grinning men in kilts left Sirius wondering whether Remus owned such a garment, and thinking how good he would look wearing one. 

He wandered the battlefield of Culloden in the afternoon, the prickly bleakness of the gorse and thistle-strewn moor reflecting Sirius's mood as he mentally kicked himself for becoming so ridiculously infatuated with someone he had known for such a short time, and whom he was never going to see again. 

Feeling that the day had been wasted, he opted to walk back to Inverness. Passing a red post box on the outskirts of town, he thought about the postcards he had purchased at the gallery, tucked between the pages of his journal. He could send one to Remus. He did not know the post code, but surely the name of the village and the pub would be enough for it to find its way there. But it was the same problem all over again as sending a message through the girl at the hostel; his words were for Remus's eyes only. A postcard might be read by anyone. 

That night, lying in his narrow bunk, Sirius took out his camera and flipped back through the pictures to find the one of Remus grinning self-consciously over a glass of whisky. He looked at it for a long time before falling asleep with the camera on the pillow beside him. 

* * *

"Hullo?" 

"It's me." 

"Hi, Lils." 

"Your American lad's here. You didna say he was gorgeous. Did you shag him?" 

"I told you; he's straight." 

"Aye, and next you'll be telling me that's no but a midge bite on his neck." 

"Lily --" 

"Och, you did! When are you going to stop shagging random blokes and settle doon, Remus? I ken the Bastard fucked you over good and proper, but it's been almost a year noo." 

"I've told you before, Lils; it isna any o' your business who I shag." 

"Well, at least you kent this one's name. That's progress." 

"You ken well enough that I dinna want to get involved with anyone just the noo." 

"Then maybe you should try keeping your troosers on. Seems to me every time you take them off, you get yourself into trouble." 

"Not this time." 

"Aye? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like you really turned this lad's head. You should have seen his face when I told him you hadna left a message for him. Like a kicked puppy. I dinna ken what you did to him, but if he was straight before he met you, he isna straight noo. You must have learnt a thing or two since we were tegeither." 

"You're never going to let me live that doon, are you?" 

"Nay. When a lass's first laddie tells her he's gay, she's entitled to a little payback." 

"You said you forgave me." 

"Aye; I'm just reminding you that you're no always right. Noo, do you have anything to say to the laddie or no?" 

"Nay. Just -- leave it, aye, Lils?" 

"You ken I only want to see you happy, Remus." 

"And you think some sexually-confused Yank who's going back to the States in a week or two is likely to do the trick, do you?" 

"All right, have it your way." 

"Cheers. I will." 

"Are you OK? You sound tired." 

"I'll do." 

"I love you, Remus. Take care o' yourself." 

"I love you, too, Lily. G'night." 

"G'night."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Brief, vague mention of past sexual assault.
> 
>  **Song:** "Wild Rover" (Traditional)

  
_And it's no, nay, never,_  
_No, nay, never, no more._  
_I'll play the wild rover,_  
_No never, no more._  


Sirius was leaning on the tasting counter at the Moniack Highland Winery, savoring the aftertaste of their dark, rich honeywine, when he decided that he was being ridiculous. The entire point of his trip to Scotland had been to get away from his family and all of the too-restrictive rules and expectations that made up his life. And what had he done? Only made a lot of new rules to make himself miserable. He had enjoyed his time with Remus, and it seemed like Remus had, too. If he wanted to see the man again, there was no earthly reason why he should not do so. 

As soon as he thought it, Sirius's heart began to beat faster and sweat prickled his palms. He was going to see Remus again. It was going to happen. It was as simple as getting a bus from Inverness and heading south. He could be there in a matter of hours. What he would say to Remus when he got there -- well, he would figure out that part later. 

The elderly man behind the tasting counter was looking at him, bushy eyebrows raised, still awaiting his judgement on Moniack's world-famous mead. 

Sirius cleared his throat. "It's good," he said. "But -- ah -- let's say I wanted to get something special for someone. Money's not important. Have you got anything like that?" 

* * *

Once the decision was made, everything seemed to take forever. The walk back to Beauly with his heavy pack on his back. The wait for the bus back to Inverness, and then, at the station, figuring out which series of transfers would get him where he wanted to go. But between bouts of frustration, Sirius was euphoric. The other passengers cast him odd looks, sitting on his own, staring out the window with a ridiculous grin on his face, but he did not care. Nothing mattered except that soon he would see Remus again. 

_God, you are queer, aren't you, Black?_ He could not suppress a huff of amusement. 

It was evening by the time the bus pulled up to the stop at the edge of the village. Sirius shouldered his pack and turned in the direction of the pub, walking quickly. Outside the building, he paused, taking several deep breaths to calm the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, before pushing the door open. 

There was Remus, just as he had appeared the first time Sirius had seen him, golden head bent, pouring a pint. Sirius shrugged off his pack and sat down at the bar, grinning. 

It took Remus a moment to notice him, but when he did, his eyes went wide, and his face under its red markings blanched white. Then his jaw clenched, and he marched over to lean across the bar, eyes flashing fire. 

"What the de'il are you doing here, Sirius?" he hissed. 

Sirius's mouth dropped open, startled by this reaction. "I wanted to see you." 

"Aye? Well, you've seen me noo. Be on your way." 

Sirius did not understand Remus's behavior. Had he done something wrong? He picked up his pack and pulled the bottle of ten-year-old Moniack Reserve Mead from a side pocket, placing it on the bar between them, a peace offering. Remus stared at it. 

"I got this for you. I thought maybe --" 

"You thought wrong. You canna be coming back here with expensive gifts whenever you feel an itch, and expect me to scratch it for you, like I'm some tart you've bought and paid for." 

Sirius recoiled, as if Remus had slapped him. "It's not like that!" 

Remus glanced around the half-empty pub, lowering his voice to an angry hiss. "Is it no? Then tell me how it is. Tell me you dinna want another go, or that you arena going back to the States in a week or so." 

Sirius bit his lip, unable to deny either charge. 

"Aye, that's what I thought." Remus turned on his heel and disappeared through the door into the kitchen. 

Feeling stunned, Sirius slumped against the bar with his head in his hands as all his daydreams of the past week shattered around him. He had been an fool to come back. Remus hated him. Sirius only wished he knew what he had done wrong. Then at least he could apologize. 

He waited, but Remus did not return. It was Fiona who emerged from the kitchen moments later, and began taking orders from customers. When she saw Sirius, her eyebrows rose in surprise. 

"Och, it's you," she said, as if his presence solved a mystery that had been puzzling her. 

"Er -- hi." Sirius shifted uncomfortably on his seat, recalling his last conversation with Remus's aunt. "I need to talk to Remus. Could you ask him --?" 

But she was already shaking her head. "He said he wasna feeling quite himself, so I sent him home." 

"Oh." 

Her expression was sympathetic as she poured him a pint. "On the house," she said, pushing it toward him before returning to her less-gloomy patrons. 

Sirius sipped the dark beer without tasting it. It was not what he wanted. He wanted to talk to Remus. He wanted for everything to be all right between them -- for Remus to be glad to see him -- but Remus was not even there anymore. There did not seem to be much point in Sirius hanging around, either. 

"Ms. Lupin?" he called. 

"'Fiona', please," she replied, coming over. 

He nodded and pushed the bottle of mead toward her. "I got this for Remus, but he -- didn't want it. Would you like it? For the pub?" 

She gave the bottle a long look, but shook her head. "If Remus wouldna take it, I'll no have it either. He wouldna want me to. A pity, though; that's fine stuff." 

She was about to turn away again, when he said, "Hang on a second," and began digging through the pockets of his pack. He located the crystal he had found in the Cairngorms, and held it out to her. "Would you give this to him? And tell him -- whatever I did, I'm sorry." 

"Aye." She weighed the stone in her palm, looking regretful. "You seem like a goodhearted lad. I'll see that he gets it." 

"Thanks," Sirius said thickly, not meeting her eyes. "And thanks for the beer, too, but -- I have to go now." 

He quickly shoved the bottle of mead back into his pack and turned away, hurrying out of the pub. Out in the open, he stopped, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe around the broken glass feeling in his chest. 

It could not end like this. Everything had been so good, and Sirius wanted to keep it that way. When he remembered Remus, he wanted it to be the way things had been before; not angry golden eyes glaring at him from across the bar over an accusing mouth. Sirius could not walk away again without trying at least once more to make it right. He turned and hurried toward the north edge of town in the evening light. 

The house was dark when he got there, but he could see that Remus's window was partially open. He pounded on the door. 

"Remus! Remus, will you just come out here and talk to me for a minute?" 

* * *

It had been a mistake. He should have realised it at the time, but he had thought he was being so grown up and rational in his dealings with Sirius. Spend the night together. Have some fun. Go their separate ways in the morning. No mess. No strings. Just a one night stand, plain and simple. 

Remus lay on his bed, wishing he had thought to close the window. He could not do it now, even if he had felt able to get out of bed. Not with Sirius down there calling up to him, looking for some sign that Remus was home and listening to his pleas. 

All his energy had evaporated following the confrontation in the pub. It had been all he could do to drag himself home. He had had a minor flare-up following his night with Sirius -- between all the walking they had done, and their energetic coupling, Remus had overexerted himself -- but he had thought himself past it. Now he could feel the ache in his head and joints returning, and he could not even summon the strength to get to his medicine on the other side of the room. Instead, he lay with an arm flung over his eyes, berating himself for his foolishness. 

Of course pulling a bloke at his aunt's pub had been nothing like going to the clubs in Edinburgh. He should have known that. There, all he had to do was throw on a tight tee-shirt and jeans, maybe smear on a little careless eyeliner, and the music was too loud for even an exchange of names before someone would drag him into the toilets for a wank or a quick suck. The low lighting and a bit of concealer hid the marks of his illness well enough, and no one he met ever had to see him on a bad day. It was not the safest way of handling his heartbreak, but it got his needs met, and he had only been victimised once, when he made the mistake of leaving the club with someone larger and stronger than himself. 

Pulling Sirius might have been physically safer, but the young American had managed to wreak havoc on his emotional well-being. He did not want to get involved with anyone. _If you dinna let a person into your life, they canna let you down,_ he reminded himself. Nothing about the situation with Sirius inspired Remus's confidence or trust. 

And yet, Sirius had so reminded him of himself at the beginning of his own journey of sexual exploration. Remus had felt curiously protective of him. All he had wanted was to ensure that Sirius had a good first experience with another man. He had not counted on how vulnerable, passionate, and eager to please Sirius had been, craving affection as much as sex, nor had he counted on his own responsiveness to the other man's need. 

The pleasure of flirtation, of companionship, of kissing, of lying naked in bed together, touching and holding one another -- Remus had forgotten how enjoyable those things could be. Sirius was the first man to find his way into Remus's bed since his heart had been broken almost a year before. And it had been good. A hundred times more satisfying than the quick and dirty acts in club lavatories that Remus was used to. 

But one night stands did not call out each other's names in the throes of orgasm -- in fact, no one had ever cried out Remus's name during sex before -- and it was that which had shocked him back to reality, made him realise he was getting in too deep, and was in danger of opening himself up to be hurt again. Sirius would go, and Remus would be left behind. He had done what he needed to do to protect himself, stepping back and letting Sirius leave town with as little fuss as possible. 

Afterwards, he had stripped the bed and washed his dressing gown and the clothes he had worn the day before. Anything that smelled of Sirius had gone straight into the laundry. Sirius's email address had been burnt over the flame of a candle before the sun had set. Remus was not taking any chances. He wanted no temptations. 

That should have been the end of it. Only, Remus had missed him. Sirius's absence was like a small, aching bruise in his chest. It was ridiculous. He had known the man less than two days. He was just some pretty foreigner who had blundered into Remus's life for a moment. And yet, he had taken all the joy of summer with him when he left town. Remus slept and read and worked his shifts at the pub when he felt able, but his thoughts kept returning to Sirius and the day and night they had spent together. 

Now Sirius was back, just as Remus was beginning to feel better. He had panicked, reacting angrily and intentionally misunderstanding the nature of the gift Sirius brought him. It had been unfair of him to accuse Sirius of using him, given his own sexual history and the nature of their involvement to date, but his only thought had been to get away from the other man as quickly as possible, because Sirius had the power to hurt him. 

Remus slowly clenched his aching hands, listening to the pounding on the front door and the desperate pleas to "just talk to me, Remus." He was almost glad that he was too fatigued to move. If he had not been, he might have run down the stairs, thrown open the door, and yanked Sirius inside to snog him breathless against the nearest wall. But all Remus could do was lie there and listen, and when Sirius finally gave up and left -- for good this time -- he would summon up the strength to call Lily and tell her everything. He always felt better after talking with his best friend. 

The daylight was beginning to fade. Sirius's voice had grown hoarse from shouting. "Remus! Remus, _please_!" he begged. Then there was a longish pause, and a much quieter and utterly dejected voice said, "Remus, whatever I did, I'm sorry." 

Gravel crunched on the garden path as Sirius's footsteps retreated. Remus turned on his side and curled up, facing the wall, eyes squeezed shut, cursing himself for his foolishness, and Sirius for making him feel this way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song:** "The Valley of Strathmore" by Andy M. Stewart

  
_If time was a thing Man could buy,_  
_All the money that I have in store,_  
_I would give for one day by your side,_  
_In the Valley of Strathmore._  


After finally giving up and walking away from Remus's aunt's house, Sirius made his way slowly back to the bus stop and spent the night sitting on a bench, feeling miserable. He entertained a brief fantasy about Remus running after him and telling him that it had all been a mistake, but dawn came, and Remus did not. Sirius caught the first bus that appeared, not much caring where it was headed. It took him as far as Fort William, and there Sirius began walking again, northeast along the fault line of the Great Glen. 

He was just killing time now. All the joy of travel had fled, and he wandered listlessly, counting the days until his flight home. He considered drowning his sorrows in expensive mead, but decided to take the bottle home with him, a gift for James. They could drink it together while Sirius told his best friend everything. Maybe it would make the telling easier. 

Every night, huddled in his sleeping bag, he took out his camera and looked at the photo of Remus before he slept, trying to erase the memory of their last conversation, but the cold look in Remus's eyes haunted his dreams. Sirius tried to tell himself that he would get over it in time, but for now, it was impossible to imagine a future in which Remus's rejection did not hurt. 

On the third day, Sirius reached Fort Augustus at the south end of Loch Ness. The weather had turned cool and cloudy, and the surface of the loch reflected the steely-gray sky, chilly and forbidding. There was a grim beauty to it, but it did nothing to lighten Sirius's mood. After a hot supper of fish and chips in the village, he pitched his tent near the water and took out his journal. He stared at the next blank page for almost ten minutes before deciding there was nothing he wanted to say, and putting it away again with a sigh. He spent the evening sitting on the rocky shore, despondently skipping stones. _Granite,_ a soft Scots voice stirred in his memory. _The bones o' the land._

The loch seemed to stretch on forever, a deep knife gash dividing Scotland in two. Sirius walked along its northern bank for two days, following the main road, bathing his weary feet in its waters and drinking from the streams that fed it, lying on its sloping banks and staring up at the cloudy sky, trying not to think very much. 

At Drumnadrochit, he pitched his tent in a wooded area next to the local church. The village sat high above the loch, and the view was breathtaking, even under the clouded sky. Sirius distracted himself for an hour or so, sitting on the low stone wall of the churchyard, sketching the scene -- the downward sweep of the valley that cradled the village; the flat, iron surface of the loch; the distant outline of Urquhart Castle; the shadowy hills that lurked across the water. 

On the way back to his campsite, Sirius noticed an odd stone the same size as the grave markers that lined the churchyard, but roughly shaped. There were no words carved into it, but one face seemed to be inscribed with a vague figure, weather-worn and obscured by lichens. It was impossible to tell what it was meant to be. The top of the stone was flat, and bore a small pile of coins. Most of them were British, but several were European currency, and a few came from even more distant places. 

Wanting to leave something to mark his own passage, Sirius returned to his tent and dug deep in his pack, coming up with a handful of American coins, including a Connecticut quarter. The stone, with its accumulation of ritual offerings, reminded Sirius of the prayer tree in the Den, and he hesitated over it, the coin clasped in his fist, thinking that some kind of prayer or wish was in order. 

"If there's a way to make it right, show me," he whispered. 

The coin _clink_ ed onto the pile and lay among its fellows, promising nothing. Sirius returned to his tent feeling foolish for resorting to wishes and superstition, but he had nothing left to lose, and he was out of ideas. 

* * *

If there were powers that heard and granted human wishes, it seemed that they had sided with Remus in their determination to make Sirius suffer for whatever unknown sin he had committed. He had walked barely two miles the following day, when, with an ominous rumble, the dark, heavy sky released its burden in a sudden summer downpour. Sirius was caught out in the open, and though he managed to get his tent up quickly, he was soaked to the skin by the time he crawled inside to huddle, shivering, and wait for the storm to abate. When he went hunting for dry clothes, he discovered that his pack was not as waterproof as he had hoped, and everything was slightly damp. 

Sirius stared out into the pouring rain and considered his options. He had planned to turn north when he reached the end of Loch Ness, but the Highlands were sparsely populated at best, and there was nowhere in that direction that he could be sure of finding facilities to dry his clothes. Inverness, on the other hand, lay only a few miles to the east, and Sirius had already broken all of his other travel rules. There was no good reason for him not to return there overnight to dry out. 

When the weather lifted, Sirius packed up his tent and hurried down the road. A mile farther on, he came to a village with a bus stop, and fifteen minutes later, he was on a bus to Inverness. 

The hills rolling past the windows shone an oddly-bright green under the dark gray of the rain-heavy sky, and Sirius reached for his camera, hoping to capture the effect. His hand froze on the pocket of his pack as his heart skipped a beat. He yanked the zipper open. The camera lay in half an inch of pooling water at the bottom of the pocket. 

"Oh, shit," Sirius groaned, taking it out and giving it a shake that sent droplets flying through the air. "Shit shit shit shit _shit_." 

He pressed the _on_ button repeatedly, to no effect. The device had been soaking in rainwater for upwards of an hour, and there was a fine mist of moisture under the viewfinder and the lens. Pressing the catch, Sirius ejected the memory card. His pictures might be safe, but there was no way to know for sure unless his camera started working again. His only photo of Remus might be gone forever. 

The bus arrived at the station in Inverness just as the rain began to patter down once more. Moved by self-pity, Sirius decided to spoil himself, checking in to an upscale guesthouse instead of a hostel. He spent the afternoon laying his possessions out to dry on every flat surface the room offered, before bundling his wet clothes and sleeping bag down to a nearby laundromat. 

Clean, dry clothing and a comfortable place to spend the night could do only so much to lift his spirits. Even treating himself to an expensive dinner at a fancy restaurant did not help much. The seared duck breast in black cherry sauce was excellent, but Sirius barely noticed. What he really needed, he decided, staring moodily into his wineglass, was to get well and truly hammered, and forget about everything for one night. He tossed some money onto the table and left to prowl the high street for a place that served liquor and did not resemble a certain cozy, old-fashioned village pub. 

He found a place that was all metal and glass and modern-looking light fixtures. The music was loud and the patrons all looked to be under thirty. Sirius decided it would do. He sat down at the bar and placed his order. While he waited for his drink, he opened the journal. It had thankfully survived the rain with only a tinge of damp around the edges and a slight warping of the pages. 

_In Inverness again,_ he wrote. _Got caught in the rain. Camera's fucked, I think. With my luck, all the photos are probably trashed. I'm so done with this trip._

His drink had appeared at his elbow as he wrote, and he took a long swallow before flipping back through the pages to the drawing of a figure, head bowed, pouring a pint. It was a rough sketch. He had managed to capture Remus's posture, and a bit of his profile, but it was only an impression. With the photo gone, how long before Remus's face faded from his memory? Sirius closed his eyes and summoned up the image of honey-brown hair falling into whisky-colored eyes, a long straight nose, and a wide mouth that smiled just for him. He could not lose that. Taking another drink, he turned to a blank page and began to sketch. 

He was in the middle of his second round and so focussed on his drawing that it took him a moment to realize someone was calling his name. Frowning at the interruption, he looked up. Red hair. Green eyes. What was her name? Lacey or Laurie. Something like that. 

"Sirius, is it no?" she said, taking the empty seat beside him. "Remus's friend?" 

"Yeah, I guess," Sirius said glumly. 

She nodded at his drawing. "That's a verra good likeness." 

Sirius snapped the journal shut, and laid a protective hand on the cover, blushing. "It's nothing." 

She looked skeptical, but did not press the matter. "Can I buy you a drink?" 

He shrugged, and when the bartender came by again, she ordered for both of them. 

They sipped in silence for a moment before Sirius said, "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but did you want something?" 

"Well --" she said slowly, not looking up from her glass, "I was actually thinking you might need someone to talk to." 

"Why should I?" he said shortly, hoping she would get the message and leave him alone. 

She gave him an incredulous look. "Because you're in a strange country, and you've only just realized you're queer, and you're sitting in a pub all on your ain, mooning over a laddie who willna give you the time o' day." 

Sirius closed his eyes and took another long swallow. _Wonderful._ A stranger knew private, secret things about his life that even James did not know. Worse, she was female. The only personal conversations Sirius had ever been forced to have with women had been marked by extreme discomfort. But this girl knew Remus -- knew what he thought and felt about things -- was the only connection to the man that Sirius had left -- and she seemed inclined to sympathy. 

"Did he -- what did he say about me?" he asked quietly, not opening his eyes. "Did he think it wasn't good? I thought it was, but I've never -- he's the only person I've --" He shook his head. "Now it seems like he hates me, and I don't even know what I did wrong." 

"He was your first?" She looked dismayed. "He didna tell me that. I'll skin him! He kens better than to do a thing like that lightly." 

"He didn't know. Not until we were already --" Sirius hid his burning face in his glass. 

The redhead clucked her tongue sympathetically. "Aye, well, we've something in common, then. He was my first, too." 

Sirius nearly choked on his drink. He coughed and spluttered and stared at her. "I thought he was gay," he wheezed accusingly. 

"He is. This was before he came out. Once he figured things out, he told me he'd thought, with us being best mates, it might make a difference." She shrugged. "But it didna, o' course. Or not enough o' one." 

Jealousy twinged in Sirius's belly. This woman had slept with Remus, and they were still friends. She could call him whenever she wanted to, or even visit, and discuss the intimate details of their lives. 

"Yeah, well, being a guy didn't make enough of a difference, either," he said bitterly. "He won't even talk to me." 

"It isna you, you ken," she told him. "He had his heart broken last summer, and he took it verra hard." 

Sirius frowned. Remus had mentioned something about that. He signaled the bartender to refill their glasses as she continued. 

"It happened verra sudden. The bloke was a student at the university. Remus was completely smitten. Thought he was in love. Then, a couple o' months later, he comes to find out he's just a bit on the side while the Bastard's boyfriend was away home for the summer hols. The Bastard acted like it was nothing, and Remus should've kent it was no but a fling." She shook her head sadly. "I havena ever seen anyone go from top o' the world to rock-bottom so fast. Can you blame him if he doesna want to risk something like that happening again?" 

"So, what? He's never going to have another relationship again, just because some asshole treated him like shit?" Sirius asked harshly. 

She gave him a hard look. "And what makes you think you have any business talking about relationships when you'll be back in the States in a week? What do you want, Sirius?" 

He dropped his eyes to his glass, ashamed. "I don't know." 

"Aye. That's what scares him. You canna have it both ways. He needs someone who isna only there for the good days. You ken he's ill?" 

"Yeah," Sirius admitted. "I wasn't sure how bad it was, though." 

The girl shrugged. "Bad enough, sometimes." 

An alarming thought struck Sirius. "But -- he's not _dying_ , is he?" 

"Nay." She shook her head. "But there isna any cure for it. He needs someone who can do for him when he canna do for himself. Someone he can trust, who sees him for who he is. He canna be anyone's plaything, aye?" 

_Who he is ...._ Sirius looked at the melting ice in his glass, feeling fuzzy-headed. Who was Remus? Did he have any idea? Someone who loved the land and its history. Who read poetry and enjoyed cooking for himself. Who believed in the importance of symbols and rituals, but not in the supernatural. An intelligent man. A conscientious lover. A wounded soul. That much, Sirius had learned in less than two days. How much more might he learn, if only he had the time? 

"If I didn't have to go home, d'you think maybe he'd --?" 

"I dinna ken," said the redhead. "But you _are_ going home, so it  doesna matter, does it?" 

"S'pose not," he sighed. 

By the end of the night, Sirius was so unsteady that the woman -- whose name he still could not recall -- had to help him back to the guesthouse. She deposited him on the bed and brewed him a mug of tea from the room's small kettle before bidding him goodnight and safe travels. 

"It's a shame," she said, hesitating in the doorway, looking regretful. "You might have been good for him." 

Sirius kicked off his shoes and curled into a miserable ball in the center of the bed, still fully dressed. His last thought before he fell asleep was that "might have been" was possibly the most depressing phrase in the English language. 

* * *

Bright sunlight woke him the next morning, stabbing into his eyes and brain. He was so hungover that the thought of going anywhere or doing anything was unbearable. Venturing as far as downstairs, he extended his stay a second night, and spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon in bed, courting the sweet oblivion of sleep with limited success. 

Fragments of his conversation with the red-haired woman the night before floated back to him on waves of embarrassment and misery. He could not believe he had been so open with a stranger. He could only blame the alcohol. She would probably tell Remus everything, too. Sirius burrowed under the pillow in humiliation at the thought of the two of them, perhaps at that very moment, discussing his virginity, the drawing he had been working on, and all the things he had said, which, in hindsight, sounded needy and pathetic. 

_She thought I could be good for him, though,_ he thought wistfully. _If I didn't have to go home. If Remus believed I wanted more than just sex. I'd treat him better than his fucking asshole ex did, anyway._

Sirius was beyond trying to fool himself or hide from the facts or his feelings any longer. He was clearly queer, and just as clearly completely hung up on Remus Lupin. If he was ever to have any hope of a chance with the man, Sirius would have to find some way of proving his sincerity. Or he could waste his last week in Scotland moping, and return home feeling like a coward, never to see or hear from Remus again. 

The first step, and possibly the trickiest, would be convincing Remus to talk to him at all. If Sirius went back to the village, Remus would only hide out in his aunt's house again, and the pub was no place for such a personal conversation, even if Sirius were to try confronting him there. 

He wished he had thought to ask the redhead for Remus's email address or phone number. He supposed he could write a letter and mail it to the pub, but mail was a slow means of communication, and Sirius was running out of time. He needed to talk to Remus privately, face to face, and soon, if only he could find a way.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song:** "Black is the Colour" (Traditional)

  
_A winter's past and the leaves are green._  
_The time has past that we have seen._  
_But still I hope the time will come_  
_When you and I will be as one._  


Misty dawn light filtered through the leaves as Remus turned off the village road and made his way down to the Den. Summer solstice was one of his favourite days of the year, and he planned to spend it relaxing amid the peaceful greenery with a good book. Perhaps he would take a nap around midday. He paused at the rocky overhang to dip a hand in the shallow pool, saying a silent prayer of gratitude to the spirit of the place that he felt well enough to be out today, before turning down the stone steps into the Den itself. His fingers brushed across the carved face of the Celtic knot, and Remus stopped dead. He was not alone. 

A blue sleeping bag lay curled in the grass beneath the prayer tree, its occupant sound asleep. At first, Remus felt only mild annoyance. He knew, of course, that other people visited the Den, but he rarely encountered anyone else there, and had developed a proprietary feeling about the place. It was only when he stepped closer that he realised who the interloper was. 

Sirius slept on his side, lips parted, dark hair falling over his eyes. His leather-bound journal and a pen lay near his relaxed fingers, as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of writing or drawing. 

Quietly, Remus eased himself down to sit with his back against the tree, watching the young American sleep, and trying to decide how he felt. At their last meeting, Sirius's sudden reappearance had startled him, and he had reacted instinctively to protect himself, lashing out before he had a chance to think things through. Now, though, Remus could afford to take a moment to sort through his messy feelings. Unconsciously, his fingers went to the pocket of his denims to touch the lump made by the piece of smokey quartz he carried with him. 

He had no idea what had motivated Sirius to come back again, after the last time, but he suspected that it had something to do with his chance encounter with Lily, and her inability to leave well enough alone. She had certainly given Remus an earful during their most recent conversation, calling him a number of highly uncomplimentary things, and he had to admit she was not far wrong in her assessment. 

The first rays of summer sunlight illuminated the Den, and it was not long before Sirius stirred, eyes blinking open. When he caught sight of Remus, his expression turned wary. 

"Hey," he rasped, sitting up. 

"Hullo," said Remus, forcing down the memories that sprang unbidden to his mind at the sight of a sleepy, tousled Sirius. 

"Er -- look, I -- um," Sirius said awkwardly. 

Remus looked down at his knees. "I think maybe I owe you an apology." 

"Oh. Do you?" Sirius looked surprised. 

Remus nodded. "I spoke to Lily. She said -- well, that doesna matter. But I shouldna have sent you away like I did. You didna deserve it." 

"I thought you hated me," Sirius said quietly. 

"I dinna hate you. It just gave me a turn, seeing you again so suddenly." 

"Do you regret what we did?" 

Remus hesitated, then shook his head. "Nay, I canna regret that. But I meant what I said last time; it canna happen again." 

"OK," Sirius agreed so quickly that Remus glanced up at him in surprise. 

"Then why have you come back?" 

Sirius picked up the journal, flipping through its pages. "I was hoping you could help me with something. I've got these letters I want to write, and I figured you would know more about what to say than anyone else I know. I wrote one last night, but I don't know if it's any good. Could you --?" 

He pushed the notebook into Remus's hands. Remus glanced down at the elegant scrawl. 

> _Dear James,_
> 
> _You've been my best friend for almost seven years now. Sometimes it feels like you're as much my brother as Regs is. We've had some rough patches, but I've always known that I could tell you anything. There's something I need to tell you now, and I hope you'll understand._
> 
> _You know the email I sent saying I'd met someone here in Scotland? Well, his name is Remus Lupin. I don't know what else to tell you or how to explain it. I haven't been keeping secrets from you. I never thought I might be queer before I met him, but the way I feel about him, I must be. You're the first person I've told. I'll write to Mother and Father and Regs tomorrow. Probably Venice, too._
> 
> _I might not be coming home next week after all. That depends on Remus. If there's any chance this could be something, I have to try. If he says no, I probably won't send this letter, and I'll come home a miserable wreck and be a dick to you and everyone else until you punch me and make me tell you what's wrong._
> 
> _I hope your summer is going well, and that this doesn't bother you too much. It doesn't have to change anything between us. Knowing you, hopefully it won't. Actually, knowing you, you'll think I'm joking. But I'm not. Please believe that I am telling you the truth._
> 
> _See you when I see you._
> 
> _Sirius_

Remus stared at the words on the page for a long time before raising his eyes to Sirius's earnest, hopeful face. 

"If we don't sleep together, and I stay, could we maybe give things a try?" Sirius's hand moved as if to touch Remus's knee, but then drew back. 

Remus looked at him in bewilderment. "But -- you have a plane ticket." 

Sirius shrugged. "I'll cancel it. My visa's good for six months. It gives us a bit of time to figure things out." 

"What about Harvard? You canna just --" 

"Fuck Harvard. If this works out, I'll transfer. Does the place you're going have a good Art History program?" 

"I -- I dinna ken," said Remus, feeling overwhelmed. "You're talking about rearranging your whole life for a bloke you've kentless than a month." 

"I've been thinking my life could use some rearranging," Sirius said, shrugging again. 

Remus shook his head. "It isna just that, though, is it? You may think you want this the noo, but you'll change your mind. You dinna want to be with someone who's ill half the time. You've only seen me on good days. There are days and weeks when I canna do much of anything, and I'm all over sores and blotches. It isna any fun. You dinna want to waste your time playing nursemaid." 

The corners of Sirius's mouth tightened and his chin lifted slightly. "Why don't you let me decide that for myself?" 

_Because I dinna want to get my hopes up,_ thought Remus, _and then watch you leave when you decide you canna bear it, or stay only for pity._ He hated it when his illness made him dependent on others for his care. It made him feel pathetic, and guilty for taking up other people's time. Family was one thing, but this was quite another. How did one even begin trusting another person that much? 

Sirius held his gaze, looking a touch defiant. "So will you help me with the letters? It's OK if you want to take a few days to think the rest of it over. I don't need to know right away." 

"You look as if you think you ken already what my answer will be," Remus frowned, unsettled to realise that he was even considering the idea. 

Sirius flashed him a sudden grin. "You're talking to me, at least. That's better than last time. Not quite as good as the time before that." 

Remus hid a smile. It _had_ been good; there was no denying that. But no sensible person gambled their entire future based on a single night of sex, no matter how good. 

"I'll help you with your letters," said Remus. "And -- I'll think about the rest of it." 

Sirius's face lit up, but his joy did not last long. Remus pronounced his letter to James "good", but the others were not so easy to write. 

"You canna be so defensive," he said in the middle of the second draft of Sirius's letter to his parents. "Give them a chance to decide for themselves what they think; dinna just assume they'll take it badly." 

"But they will," grumbled Sirius. 

"That may be," Remus allowed, "but if you want them to treat you like an adult, first you must act like one. Dinna throw it in their faces or let them think they can shame you with it. Stick to the facts and keep a civil tone." 

"What did you tell your parents?" 

Remus smiled bitterly. "That I was queer and I was shagging a bloke from the university and if they didna like it, that was their problem. And then I left before they could catch their breath. Went over to his place and found out --" he shook his head, pushing away the still-raw memory. "It wasna a good day. Trust me; you dinna want to do things the way I did them." 

It took three more drafts before Remus was satisfied and he allowed Sirius to move on to the letter to his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend. In part, Remus knew that he was testing Sirius's sincerity, along with his patience, but he also felt that, in a way, he was making up for the mess he had made of coming out to his own family and Lily. He might be on better terms with his parents now if he had had any inkling what he was doing, or had someone to talk him through it, rather than treating their every concern for his health and wellbeing as condemnation. 

Since Sirius did not seem interested in ever seeing or hearing from his girlfriend again, Remus suggested that there was no need to explain matters too thoroughly to her. "There's a time to be honest, and a time to be tactful, aye? Just tell her you're sorry but you dinna think you're a good match, it isna her fault, and you didna mean to lead her on. She doesna need to ken any more about it than that." 

The letter to Sirius's younger brother was the hardest of all. Sirius sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag, writing and scribbling out and writing some more and grumbling in frustration. Remus watched him with sympathy, thinking of his sister Natalie and how close they had been, before. He knew it was partially his own fault. In the wake of his heartbreak, he had withdrawn from his family, fearing more rejection and judgement. He was tired of suffering for his own mistakes. He did not want to see Sirius make the same ones. 

"What if he hates me?" Sirius burst out, head in his hands. "What if my own brother never speaks to me again?" 

Remus gave his knee a reassuring pat. "It willna come to that. He might not like it or accept it straight away, but you must just be patient. He's still your brother; this doesna change that." 

When Sirius did not move or respond, Remus added softly, "You dinna have to do this, you ken. Not today. You can wait and tell him face-to-face, once you're home, if you think that might be better." 

"No." Sirius looked up. His eyes were scared and hopeful and determined all at once as they searched Remus's face. "No, I have to. If it means you might -- if we could be --" 

And then he was tumbling forwards, spilling the journal onto the ground, pressing his mouth fiercely to Remus's. The kiss was innocent and lasted no more than a few seconds, but heat flooded Remus's body and his lips were left tingling when Sirius pulled away, cheeks flushed. 

"Sorry," Sirius mumbled, looking anywhere but at Remus. "Could we maybe pretend that didn't happen? I just meant -- thanks. For helping me with this." 

"Nay bother," said Remus breathlessly, swallowing his disappointment that Sirius had not taken a little longer to come to his senses. 

By the time the last letter was finished, it was almost midday, and Sirius's journal was half full of drafts and crossings-out. Sirius sat with the torn-out final versions of the letters clutched in his lap, looking exhausted. 

"Post office?" he said. 

Remus stood and pulled on his hat while Sirius packed up his things, and they left the Den together in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. 

As they walked, Remus glanced covertly at Sirius. He was easy on the eyes; there was no denying that. From the silver-grey of his eyes to the easy grace of his movements, the man was beautiful. But that on its own was not enough. Remus's ex had been nice to look at, too, and Remus could find pretty boys a-plenty at the clubs in Edinburgh any night he wished. 

The sex had been good, but if Sirius had meant what he said, then that, too, was irrelevant. At least, it was irrelevant for as long as Remus could bear to be around Sirius without giving in to temptation. He wanted the man even now. He wanted to drag him to the nearest secluded spot and have him right then and there, and he doubted Sirius would raise many objections. 

Sex was not what Remus feared; vulnerability was. For the past year, he had disregarded his health and physical safety in a way that some -- certainly his family and Lily -- might consider self-destructive. Remus had pursued risky sex in order to avoid any chance of emotional risk-taking. 

Sirius, on the other hand, seemed perfectly willing to lay everything on the line for a chance at something he wanted. He was not afraid to let others see his heart. Remus could not help envying him that a little; it reminded him of himself, before. 

_And he wants me?_ Even unmarked by the signs of his illness, Remus knew he was nothing special to look at. He could not grasp Sirius's interest in him. 

He was not worried that the man might be playing him, as his ex had done. The possibility seemed remote, unless Sirius was a consummate actor and a complete sadist. But Sirius was still negotiating his own identity, and there was no telling how he would react to possible rejection by his family, or the lingering malaise of homophobia which still infected the world they lived in, not to mention Remus's condition. Sirius was fully capable of hurting Remus without ever meaning to. 

The post office lay on the main road, near the rail station. Remus slouched against the wall as Sirius leaned on the counter and flashed the postmistress a charming smile, which she returned, handing him air mail envelopes and postage. He watched Sirius, head bent, mouth set, carefully address and seal each envelope, wishing that he could talk to someone he trusted -- Lily or Fiona -- and ask them what they thought he should do. But if he was honest with himself, he already knew what they would say. 

The last letter addressed, sealed, and stamped, Sirius walked past him, out into the sunlight, to stand beside the red post box. Remus followed. 

"You don't have to decide today," Sirius repeated, looking up from the letters clutched between his hands. "My flight isn't for another five days, if you need time to think. But if it's definitely _no_ , tell me now, all right?" 

Remus gazed at Sirius, taking in the wide grey eyes, filled with as much hope as fear, and the vulnerable set of his mouth. They knew so little about one another, but if Sirius stayed, they would have time to fix that. The desire to know more was there, for both of them, and maybe that was enough for now. 

"Nay, I've thought about it," he said. 

"And?" 

Remus gently extracted the letters from Sirius's grasp. His eyes never left the other man's, and Sirius made no move to stop him, as he dropped the four envelopes into the slot of the post box, one by one. Then his hand moved to curve around the back of Sirius's neck, drawing him in close. The kiss was slow and thorough, and after, Sirius pressed his forehead to Remus's shoulder, hands clutched in the wool of his ratty brown jumper. 

"You'll really stay?" Remus asked softly. 

Sirius's voice shook with relief. "If you'll have me." 

"And here I thought 'having' you wasna part o' the agreement," Remus teased, grinning. 

Sirius laughed and kissed him again. "Rain check, then." 

Feeling suddenly carefree and not a little giddy, Remus slid an arm around Sirius's waist. This was new territory for him -- being with someone without instant gratification. Remus found he was rather looking forwards to the challenge. 

"Come along to the house," he said. "There's a plane ticket that wants canceling."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Song:** "Auld Lang Syne" by Robert Burns

  
_And there's a hand, my trusty friend,_  
_And gie's a hand o' thine;_  
_We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,_  
_For auld lang syne._  


"And what is the reason for your visit?" 

James Potter had been asking himself the same question since he had boarded the plane in Boston eight hours before. _I'm here to find out if something's happened to my best friend, or if I've just fallen for the world's worst joke._ He looked at the immigration official doubtfully. "I'm visiting a friend." 

Passport stamped, James passed through the security gate and into the baggage claim area, feeling uncharacteristically awkward and out of his depth. He was annoyed with Sirius for that, too. Gritting his teeth, he swept the milling throng of travelers, looking for a familiar face. There. Sirius waved to him from across a baggage carousel, grinning nervously. And behind him -- _That must be the guy._

Sirius hurried toward him, dodging between tourists and their luggage. James eyed the lanky youth trailing after his best friend critically. He was unpretentiously dressed. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Odd patchy red markings on his cheeks, and across the bridge of a nose a touch too long for good looks. His appearance offered no explanation for the bewildering letter James had received three weeks before. 

"James!" Sirius moved as if to embrace him, but he must have seen something in his expression that made him drop back, looking disappointed. "James, this is Remus." 

James hesitated a moment before shaking hands with the stranger, uncomfortably aware that he was experiencing something like jealousy. "Pleased to meet you," he mumbled. 

"Sirius speaks o' you all the time." The young man's voice was soft and lilting. "It's good to finally be able to put a face to a name." 

Sirius carried most of the conversation out of the airport and onto the train that would take them to the village where they were staying. Remus appeared to be naturally soft-spoken, and James's normally boisterous personality was subdued by the strange situation. He gave brief replies to Sirius's inquiries about his flight and how his parents were and what he had been doing over the summer, and he listened to Sirius talk about the village they were headed to and their plans for his visit, but mostly he spent the trip watching the two men sitting across from him. 

It was hard not to be aware of how often Sirius and Remus looked at or touched one another. Every time the conversation lagged, Sirius would glance at the other man, and Remus would nod encouragement, or touch Sirius's hand or knee briefly, and the last hope James clung to that this was all some sort of elaborate joke evaporated. Sirius could lie through his teeth when he needed to, but he was not that good of an actor. 

By the time the train pulled into the village station, James was more annoyed than ever. At Sirius for doing something so drastic to their friendship and putting him in such an awkward position. At Remus for existing and having such an obvious influence over his best friend. At himself for the irrationality of his feelings about the matter. 

He kept telling himself that he was not homophobic -- he was very firmly of the opinion that people should be free to live their lives in whatever way worked best for them, so long as they were not hurting anyone -- but this was different. James had thought he knew Sirius as well as he knew himself, but he had never once suspected his friend might be queer. Perhaps he did not know him as well as he had thought. 

Dinner at the local pub, owned and operated by Remus's aunt, was punctuated by long silences that good food and generous quantities of beer did little to cover. 

At last, Remus said, "I should be off home and let the two o' you catch up." 

Sirius gave the Scot a wordless, pleading look as Remus extracted his hand from Sirius's grip. Then Remus did what James immediately realized he should have been expecting, and leaned in to kiss Sirius goodnight. They did not make a show of it, but it was no dry, formal peck, either. James had never seen Sirius kiss anyone like that -- had never in seven years seen such an expression of dreamy tenderness on his friend's face -- and stared openly. He had the sudden unsettling thought that this was not Sirius at all, but some stranger he was about to be left alone with, impersonating his friend. 

When the two men broke apart, Remus brushed a thumb over Sirius's jaw and whispered, "It will be all right." 

James felt even worse for being the cause of Sirius's distress, but there was a part of him that considered it only justice for the discomfort he himself felt at the moment. 

"Goodnight," Remus nodded to James, and more softly, "I'll see you tomorrow," to Sirius. 

After the other man departed, Sirius cast James an unusually shy look. "We should take our dishes through to the kitchen. Save Fiona the trouble. Then I'll show you to the room." 

James nodded, but said nothing until they reached the privacy of Sirius's rented room over the pub. 

"So --" 

Sirius leaned against the door, arms folded. "Just say whatever it is that you're thinking and get it over with, Potter." 

"It's true, then." 

"Of course it's true," Sirius scowled. "I said so, didn't I?" 

James shook his head, sinking into the desk chair. "I don't get it." 

"What's not to get?" 

"He's just -- not what I was expecting," James said uncomfortably. 

"Which was what, exactly?" 

"I dunno," James shrugged, jet lag lending an edge to his irritability. "Movie star good looks. Maybe kind of girly. _Something_ to explain why you've suddenly decided you're a --" he broke off, shaking his head. "But he just looks like some guy with a skin condition. I'd think it was all a joke, but even you wouldn't go to this much trouble." 

Sirius's face flushed with anger. "Fuck you, Potter." 

"No thanks," James sneered. "I'm not into that." 

Sirius stared at him for a moment, as if trying to decide something. Then his arm shot out, wrapping around James's neck and twisting him into a headlock. James yelled, fighting back, but only managed to rake Sirius's cheek with his nails and lose his glasses before Sirius wrestled him to the floor, pinning his arms at his sides, and straddling his abdomen. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Black?" James growled, glaring up at Sirius's intent face, inches from his own. 

"I'm reminding you that we're still brothers," Sirius said coolly. "I don't think about you 'that way' and you're not going to catch 'queer' from me. I'd rather not have to punch you, but if you're going to be an asshole about Remus, I will." 

They glared at one another for a moment in a silent battle of wills, then, "Get off," James wheezed. "You've made your fucking point." 

Sirius let go of him, and the two of them sat side by side on the floor with their backs against the bed, trying to catch their breath. James could feel several tender spots where he was sure to have bruises the next day. Strangely, he now felt somewhat better about the situation. Physical altercation was familiar territory for the two of them. It had been a more common means of resolving disputes when they were younger, but they still resorted to it from time to time to settle points of contention. Sirius was still Sirius. That was good to know. 

"Why did you come?" Sirius asked, handing him back his glasses. "You didn't have to. If that's how you feel about it --" 

"You're my best friend," said James, surprised that he should ask. "I was worried about you. I just wanted to make sure you were all right." 

Sirius looked equally startled. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

James's hands clenched at his sides and he flushed darkly. He could not look at his friend, but the question needed to be asked. He had come all this way. "Look, don't take this the wrong way, but -- he didn't -- _force_ you, did he? I mean, if he hurt you --" 

"Jesus!" said Sirius, slumping against the bed in shock. "God, no! It wasn't like that. You really thought --? Remus would _never_ \--" 

The knot James had been carrying in his guts for weeks loosened slightly. "OK. I believe you. It's just -- this seems really sudden. You were never into guys before." 

"I was never really into girls, though, was I?" 

"You were with Corbet for a year." James pointed out. "And you went out with Withers. Everyone wanted her." 

Sirius sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "You want to know why I really broke up with Withers? She couldn't get me off. I told her she was doing it wrong, but really, I just wasn't into it. Maybe I stayed with Corbet for so long because she never tried. I've never gotten stupid over a girl the way you and the other guys did. They just weren't that interesting." 

"And you're stupid over this guy?" asked James skeptically. 

Sirius's grin was comfortingly familiar. "Like a drunk with a head injury." 

"So. You have a boyfriend," James tested the word. 

Sirius's grin widened. "Yeah, I do." 

"Are you in love with him?" 

The grin faded from Sirius's lips. "I don't know. Maybe. It's only been a few weeks." 

"Are you sleeping with him?" 

"I sleep here," Sirius pointed out, ears reddening. "But if you really want to know, yeah, we did. Once. But then we decided to back off and get to know each other better." 

James shook his head. "I can't believe you let someone do that to you." 

"Do what?" 

It was James's turn to blush. "You know." 

Sirius rolled his eyes. "We didn't do _that_. Not that it would be any of your business if we did." 

"But I thought you said --" James frowned in confusion. "I mean -- So you didn't have sex with him?" 

"Oh, and the only way for two people to have sex, according to the great James Potter, is for someone to stick their cock in someone else?" Sirius shot back. "It's easy to tell _you've_ never gotten laid. I went to bed with him. We got each other off. Repeatedly. That's all you need to know about it." 

"And you liked it?" asked James, trying very hard not to picture the scene Sirius described. 

"Best night of my life," said Sirius smugly. 

James scrubbed his hands through his unruly cloud of black hair and sighed. "What time is it?" 

"Not too late, but if you're tired, we can go to sleep. You can have the bed." 

Tired of arguing, James nodded. He felt a little more self-conscious than usual undressing in front of Sirius, but his friend ignored him, unrolling his sleeping bag on the narrow strip of floor between bed and desk. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe things had not changed between them as much as James had feared. 

Lying in the darkness, James realized there was something important that he had forgotten to ask about, wrapped up as he was in his own feelings. 

"How did your family take it?" 

Sirius gave a quiet snort. "Let's just say it's a good thing my parents don't have a phone number for me here. There have been a lot of emails. They think this is just another way for me to rebel, and that I need to get it out of my system and come home before any of their friends find out." 

"What about Regs?" 

There was a long silence. "I haven't heard from him." 

"Are you OK?" James knew how close the Black brothers had been when they were younger, and how much their growing apart bothered Sirius. 

"Mostly," Sirius admitted. "Remus thinks he'll come around. I just wish I knew what he was thinking." 

"I'll talk to him when I get home, if you like," offered James. 

"Thanks." 

"If he feels anything like I did, though, you should think about talking to him face-to-face." 

"Maybe." 

"You have to come home sometime, you know. You can't stay here forever." 

"I know," said Sirius, but the tone of his voice suggested that he knew no such thing. 

James raised himself up on an elbow and peered down at the dark shape of his friend on the floor. "What about Harvard?" he demanded. "What about us rooming together? Is this it? You're running off with some guy and I'm just never going to see you again?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," said Sirius irritably. "Of course you'll see me. Even if things do work out with me and Remus, it's not like I'm dead or on another planet or something. Anyway, it's too late for me to apply to St Andrews this year. I'll have to do Harvard for at least a semester before I can transfer. Maybe a year. We can still room together, if you still want to." 

"You think I wouldn't, just because you're queer now? I don't want anything to change." He shut his mouth abruptly, hearing the desperate note in his own voice. 

"I guess that's the thing about growing up." Sirius sounded a little sad. "It's not going to be like it was anymore. Things are going to change whether we want them to or not. But we'll always be brothers, won't we?" 

"Always," James said firmly. "Someone has to look out for you." 

* * *

Sirius let James sleep for as long as he needed to the next morning. They ate breakfast in the room -- toast and tea from the toaster and kettle Sirius kept on his desk -- before heading over to Remus's aunt's house to collect him. 

The Scot's eyebrows rose when he caught sight of Sirius's scratched cheek and the dark bruise on James's arm. "Everything all right?" he asked, a protective arm circling Sirius's shoulders. 

"He said you were ordinary-looking," Sirius complained. 

The corner of Remus's mouth turned up. "Well, I am. But if you dinna mind it, then neither do I. Have you sorted things out, then?" 

Sirius nodded, and Remus's smile widened. "I told you so, did I no?" 

"I'm all right with it," James volunteered. "At least, I'll get used to it. I wouldn't drop a friend over something like this. But I still have to make sure you're good enough for him." 

Sirius scowled, but Remus laughed outright, revealing the unexpected flash of a tongue piercing. "As you should. I'll forward you my references, shall I?" 

From that moment on, James could not help liking Sirius's boyfriend just a little. 

The plan was to travel to Inverness for the weekend and visit one of Remus's friends. James was not sure if this was to keep him from feeling like a third wheel, or if the additional company was meant to cover any discomfort until they all got used to one another, but he was glad to have something to do other than sit around and make awkward conversation. 

The train ride north was somewhat better than the one from the airport the previous day, but James still could not help feeling out of place. Sirius and Remus mostly kept their hands to themselves, but he was not sure if this was for his own benefit, or because they were in public. 

_Do people give them a hard time?_ he suddenly wondered. 

Protectiveness surged in his chest. Not only for Sirius, but for the pair of them. He glanced around covertly for disapproving gazes, but none of the other passengers appeared to take any special notice of the two men, and James relaxed slightly. 

The flat where Remus's friend was staying was only a few minutes' walk from the station. When the door opened to Remus's knock, James stared. 

"Remus!" 

The most beautiful woman James had ever seen in person wrapped Sirius's boyfriend in a fiercely possessive hug. The redhead hugged Sirius, too, then turned her green eyes and bright smile on James. 

"Lily, this is James Potter, Sirius's friend from home," Remus introduced them. 

"Pleased to meet you," she grinned, shaking his hand. "I didna ken America was so full o' bonnie laddies." 

James found himself blushing -- something he rarely did in the company of girls. "Nice to meet you. Lily. Er --" 

"We've the place to ourselves for the weekend," she said, holding the door open. "Frank and Alice have gone doon to Norwich to visit his parents." 

As they followed Lily into the flat, Sirius murmured, "If you don't close your mouth, flies will get in." 

"You don't think she's hot?" James demanded in a whisper. 

Sirius observed the redhead's rear aspect and shrugged. "She's sort of pretty, I guess. If that's your type." 

James stopped dead and stared at his friend in disbelief. "You really _are_ gay, aren't you?" 

"I thought we'd already established that." 

"How did neither of us ever notice?" James shook his head. "I always thought we were pretty smart." 

Sirius grinned. "Don't complain; just be glad you don't have to compete with my charm and good looks for the local redheads. You wouldn't stand a chance." 

"Always so modest," James snorted, clapping him on the shoulder. 

They spent the remainder of the day exploring Inverness. Lily played tour guide, taking them to the best local eateries, rarely frequented by tourists. 

In the afternoon, they visited Moniack Highland Winery. James was so charmed by Lily's running commentary of little-known historical gossip that it was a while before he realized that Sirius and Remus had vanished. After the mead tasting, he and Lily searched the grounds, finally locating their friends necking enthusiastically behind a tree. James was the only one who seemed embarrassed, and he realized that if he wanted to impress Lily, he needed to be cool about Sirius and Remus's relationship, and fast. 

"You think I'm going to behave myself for a whole week just because you're here?" Sirius teased in an undertone as they walked back to town, lagging a little behind Remus and Lily. "Besides, you didn't look like you'd miss us." 

James smiled reluctantly. "I didn't, for a minute." 

"You like her." 

"The fact that that surprises you at all only goes to show how bent you are, Black. Do you happen to know if she's seeing anyone?" 

Sirius gave him an evil grin. "I'll go ask, shall I?" 

"What? _No!_ Sirius!" James hissed as Sirius skipped away, laughing. God, she was going to think he was twelve, and not even a little bit cool. 

But Sirius was only giving him a hard time. "We should do something fun tonight," James heard him say as he drew even with Lily and Remus. He cast a wink over his shoulder. "Know any good clubs?" 

Lily looked at Remus with something like concern. "Feeling up to it?" 

Sirius's boyfriend shrugged. "Aye. Why not?" 

As it turned out, Lily did know a decent nightclub. It was located just off the high street in the middle of Inverness. The music was loud and fast, and the bar was overrun with teenagers and twenty-somethings, flailing to the music and clamoring for drinks. 

"I've got the first round," Sirius announced, diving into the throng. He returned several moments later, awkwardly carrying four cocktails. 

Through luck and strategic maneuvering, they managed to secure a table in a corner which was not exactly quiet, but they were at least able to converse at something below a shout. The drink tasted strong, and James enjoyed the novelty of being legally permitted to drink alcohol in public. He hoped that he would not make a fool of himself in front of Lily, and resolved to pace himself. 

As the others were finishing their first round, Sirius leaned over and whispered something in Remus's ear. The Scot raised his eyebrows and glanced back and forth between James and Lily, then grinned at Sirius. 

"Aye, I believe I do feel like dancing," he said. "If you'd care to join me?" 

Sirius stood, taking his boyfriend's hand. "Will you two be all right on your own for a bit?" he asked with apparent innocence. 

James nodded. His eyes followed the two men as they stepped onto the dance floor. Soon they were lost in the music, eyes only for each other, as if they were alone in the world. James watched, lost in thought, until a hand set another drink down in front of him. He looked up sheepishly at Lily. 

"Sorry. Didn't mean to ignore you." 

"It's all right. I ken you're a bit distracted the noo." 

"So I guess you're pretty happy for them," he said, eyes wandering back to the dance floor. 

"Aye, it's good to see Remus happy with someone at last. They look good tegeither, do they no?" 

James glanced at her, surprised by the smugness of her tone. "I guess so. You don't think anyone will bother them?" 

She shook her head, taking a sip of her drink. "Take a look around, and tell me what the lassies are doing." 

James did as she bade him. Most of the club's patrons took no notice of the two young men dancing in each other's arms, but more than a few young women watched with obvious enjoyment. 

"If any o' the blokes here want to impress the lassies, they willna trouble our lads," she assured him. "Anyway, I happen to ken that one o' the bouncers is queer. He willna let any harm come to them." 

James relaxed slightly, taking a swallow of the drink she had bought him. "I worry about him," he admitted. "He's my best friend." 

"Aye, and Remus is mine." 

"It didn't change things?" James asked. "When you found out he was gay?" 

"Well, it did," she confessed. "In some ways, for the better. It was hard at first, though. You ken we were seeing one another at the time? It hurt -- him saying he didna like girls at all that way. I thought maybe it was something I had done wrong. I ken noo that that's ridiculous, and he was always like this, but at the time --" she sighed, shaking her head. "But noo we're closer than we ever were. So dinna fash if things are uncomfortable for a wee while." 

"It feels like I'm losing him," he confessed. "I've never seen him like this about anyone. I came over thinking -- I don't even know. But this is real for him -- for them. Isn't it?" 

"Aye. But you canna lose a true friend." She gave his fingers a squeeze, and between that and the drink, he found it rather hard to focus on what she was saying. "He hasna changed, you ken. It's only that he's figured something out, and he's a wee bit distracted at the moment. So relax and try to enjoy yourself, lad. Your friend will come back to you soon enough." 

James nodded, tossing back the rest of his drink. "You're right. I shouldn't worry so much." He dragged his eyes away from the dance floor and gave the beautiful redhead beside him his most charming smile. "Would you like to dance?" 

She looked him up and down, then returned the smile. "Aye. Why not?" 

* * *

By the time they arrived back at the flat, they were all more than a little tipsy, and everything seemed utterly hilarious, right up until they sorted out the sleeping arrangements for the night. When Remus kissed Sirius goodnight and disappeared into Lily's room, James looked at his friend incredulously. 

"He's sleeping in her bed, and you don't have a problem with that?" he demanded. 

Sirius paused amid distributing pillows and sleeping bags on the sitting room floor, and shrugged. "You'd rather he was out here with you, and I was sharing her room? I'd be more than happy to bunk up with him, but I don't think she'd be quite as cool about sharing with some guy she just met." 

"Fine," scowled James. "But you know they used to go out, right? Lily told me. You're not worried something might happen?" 

"He's _gay_ ," Sirius reminded him. "She could put her hand down his pants and he wouldn't be interested. If I offered to blow you, would that tempt you away from being straight for a night?" 

"God, no!" James gagged, reflexively shielding his crotch with his hands. 

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Don't worry; I have no interest in your pathetic, wrinkly dick. It would be like sucking Regs off." 

"All right," James relented, wriggling into one of the sleeping bags. "If you trust him -- He seems like a decent guy." 

Sirius grinned. "I hoped you'd like him." 

"Maybe I do. A bit." James returned the smile grudgingly. "All right. I'm ready to listen. Tell me what happened. But not too many details about -- things, OK?" 

It was a long story, but James stayed awake, listening to his friend's sleepy voice. When he finished, James was silent for several contemplative minutes. 

"Are you happy, Sirius?" he asked at last. He pitched his voice low, in case his friend had fallen asleep. 

Sirius gave a sleepy sigh of contentment. "Yeah, I am." 

James nodded, satisfied. "Then I'm glad for you." 

* * *

"Do you think they'll be all right?" asked Remus. 

Lily squeezed the arm around her waist. "I think they will be. But if you like, I can work on James a bit." 

Remus chuckled, pulling her closer against his chest. "After you gave me such a hard time for turning poor Sirius's head?" 

She shrugged, snuggling comfortably back against him. "Well, he's a fine-looking laddie, and if he's busy panting after me, it's that much less he'll fash himself about you and Sirius." 

"You ken he fancies you already. But what do you think o' him?" 

"He might be all right, once he gets over being uncomfortable about everything." 

"Aye, fair enough," he grinned, kissing the top of her head. 

"So how are things going with you and your laddie?" she asked. 

Remus gave a sigh of contentment. "You were right. As usual. Things are good." 

"Are you sleeping tegeither yet?" 

"I dinna see how that's any o' your concern, Mistress Evans," he said reprovingly. 

"I was only curious." She patted his hand. "But from the way the two o' you were dancing tonight, I'm guessing you are. If you like, I can go kip in Frank and Alice's room, and you can have the laddie in here." 

"All right," Remus sighed. "Since you willna let it go, nay, we arena shagging. We're waiting until we ken one another better." 

"Och, I never kent you were such a romantic, Remus," she teased. 

" _Wheesht_ , woman," he grumbled, giving her another affectionate squeeze. "Can a man no have a little dignity?" 

"Nay, I think it's verra sweet o' you to wait. I do love you, Remus." 

"I love you, too, Lily. Noo go to sleep and stop thinking pervy thoughts about me and my boyfriend." 

* * *

Sirius had never shown much respect for the personal space of others, so James considered it a wonder that he even bothered to knock before inviting himself into Lily's room the next morning. He followed his friend into the room where Lily and Remus were waking up, still clothed, but rather more wrapped around one another than James thought was decent between friends. Sirius, however, ignored the pointed look James shot him, bouncing onto the bed to give Remus a thorough good morning kiss. 

Lily sat up and raised her eyebrows at James. She looked, if possible, even lovelier with her hair all sleep-mussed than she had the day before. "Come and help me with breakfast?" she invited him. "We'll give these two lovebirds a wee bit o' privacy." 

She closed the door behind them, and led him to the kitchen. James sat down at the table, the awkwardness of the day before settling over him once more. 

"Everything all right with you and Sirius?" she asked, transferring a critical eye from the contents of the cupboard to him. 

"Yeah. We talked some more last night. I think we're OK." 

"Then why do you look like your mum just told you your da's the postman?" 

It was a personal question, and it was none of his business, and James should not ask it, except that, insofar as it concerned Sirius, it _was_ his business, because he had a responsibility to look out for his best friend's wellbeing. "You and Remus aren't still --?" 

She paused, kettle in hand, and frowned at him. "I told you last night. He only fancies blokes." 

James tried to think of a diplomatic way to ask, and gave up. "Maybe he doesn't like girls, but what about you? Are you over him? You were all wrapped up in each other this morning, and I just wondered --" 

Lily looked down at the cluster of mugs on the counter and sighed. "Nay. I used to fancy him like anything, and I'll always love him, but I dinna think I was ever _in_ love with him. It's been over between us for a long time." 

He was just about to try turning the conversation to whether she was seeing anyone else at the moment when the bedroom door opened, and a very flushed and tousled Sirius and Remus emerged. Sirius ducked quickly into the bathroom, but Remus came into the kitchen, subsiding into a wooden chair. 

The redhead opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Remus shot her a warning look. "Nay, we didna, so dinna ask." 

She laughed, and James tried very hard to pretend he could not guess what Remus's cryptic remark meant. By the time Sirius reappeared a few moments later, looking somewhat more composed, there were four steaming mugs of tea on the table, which they drank while they waited for toast and discussed their plans for the day. 

The rest of the weekend was surprisingly pleasant, and James suffered only a few minor embarrassments. They took things at a more leisurely pace than the first day, since Lily seemed concerned that Remus looked tired, but James thought the Scot seemed well enough. He and Sirius kept wandering off on their own, and James began to suspect that they might have an ulterior motive apart from a desire for privacy: every time they disappeared, James was left in the company of the lovely and delightful Lily Evans. He did not feel inclined to complain about this state of affairs. 

All too soon, the four of them were standing at the station, waiting for their train to arrive. 

"It was good meeting you," said James regretfully. "I hope we'll see one another again sometime." 

"Aye, me too," said Lily, flashing him one of her bright smiles. "I'm sure we will, if these two wee fools manage to keep it tegeither. Here --" 

She took out a pen, tried and failed to find a scrap of paper, gave up, and wrote her email address on the back of his hand. As the train pulled into the station, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. 

"Write to me sometime, aye?" 

"I will," promised James, sincerely hoping that Sirius and Remus would stay together for a very long time.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter by [runrunhurryhurry](http://runrunhurryhurry.tumblr.com/post/126567887754/sketched-some-scenes-with-remus-and-sirius-after) (used with permission).
> 
>  **Song:** "Ready for the Storm" by Dougie MacLean

  
_The waves crash in and the tide pulls out._  
_It's an angry sea but there is no doubt_  
_That the lighthouse will keep shining out_  
_To warn the lonely sailor._

_And I am ready for the storm...._

They spent the rest of James's visit doing things around the village. Sirius and Remus took him up to the distillery, and showed him some of the other local sites. They did not take him to the Den. That was private. On the last evening before James left, Remus bowed out. 

"I'm all in," he told them. "I'll leave you be, and let the two o' you have tonight and tomorrow on your ain." 

Sirius eyed him narrowly. "Are you OK?" 

"Dinna fash yourself over me." Remus gave him a tired smile. "I'll do." 

He shook James's hand, bidding him farewell, and left the two of them alone in the pub. Sirius's eyes followed him to the door, and continued to look after him until James kicked him under the table. 

"What? Are you afraid to be alone with me now?" 

"No." Sirius shook himself. "It's just -- Nothing. Never mind." 

"You worry about him a lot," James observed. "I could tell Lily does, too. What's up?" 

Sirius frowned. He did not think it was his place to get into Remus's private business with James -- it felt too much like gossiping behind Remus's back -- but he had to tell him something. "He has Lupus," he said finally. "It's an autoimmune thing. You can look it up when you get home." 

James's brow furrowed. "But is he OK?" 

"He's fine," said Sirius. "At least, he is a lot of the time. And it's not contagious, so don't worry about that, either." 

"But --" 

" _No_ ," Sirius snapped, cutting him off. "Look, it's none of your business, OK?" 

James blinked at him, startled, and Sirius felt guilty. He could not remember the last time there had been anything he had not wanted to discuss with James. But this was Remus, and Sirius felt very protective of him. He would rather give James a play-by-play account of the night they had spent together than divulge any of Remus's personal business without his permission. 

"OK," said James, looking puzzled, but he let the matter drop. 

They went for a walk through the village as the daylight began to fade, talking of their plans for the remainder of the summer, and discussing what James would say when he spoke to Regulus. 

"I'll tell him the truth," James said with a half-smile. "That I've never seen you as happy as you are with him." 

Sirius blushed, glancing at his friend. "Haven't you?" He _was_ happy; he just had not known that his happiness was so readily apparent to others. 

James rolled his eyes, grinning. "You fucking _glow_ when you look at him. It's nauseating. I'll be glad to get away." 

"Oh, and are we going to talk about the way _you_ were looking at Lily?" Sirius deflected, flush deepening. "She noticed, you know. Remus told me so." 

Now James was blushing, too, the brown skin of his face and throat taking on a darker hue. "What did she say?" 

It was Sirius's turn to roll his eyes. "She thinks you're all right. I believe the exact words she used were 'bonnie' and 'nice arse'." 

James ran a hand self-consciously through his hair, looking pleased. "Well, that's good, isn't it?" 

"Split up with Hathersage again, have you?" Sirius smirked. 

James nodded. "For good this time, I think. You know she's going to Dartmouth. I don't think either of us were that into trying to make it work, long distance." 

"So instead, you're going to try to start something with someone you barely know who lives five timezones away." Sirius shook his head. "Good plan, Potter." 

James gave him a wry smile. "Seems like it worked for you." 

That made Sirius laugh. "Fair." 

They stopped by the churchyard and sat on the low stone wall to watch the sun set over the hills. 

"So, have you thought about what happens next?" James asked. 

Sirius shrugged. "Some. I'll have to go home in time to get ready for the start of term. I don't know if I'll be able to transfer at the semester, or if I'll have to wait until next year." 

"What about your parents? They're not going to be happy about that. Will they still pay your way if you transfer?" 

"Dunno," Sirius admitted. "I'm not going to tell them about that part until I have to. I checked, though, and St Andrews is a lot cheaper than Harvard. I might be able to pay my own way, if I get a job." 

"Well, you know my folks will be happy to help you out, if you need it." 

Sirius glanced at him, suddenly wary. "Do they know?" 

James ducked his head. "Yeah. Sorry. I had to talk to someone." 

"How'd they take it?" 

"They were a little surprised, but they didn't seem upset. Mom says if your parents give you a hard time, you can always come over and stay for as long as you like." 

"Your parents are the best," said Sirius, not for the first time. "Give your mom a hug from me, when you see her." 

"Hey," said James, draping an arm around Sirius's shoulders and ruffling his hair, "we're brothers, remember? They're your parents, too, and we both know you're their favourite. They're not going to let anything happen to you." 

Sirius grinned. "Yeah, I know. I think maybe everything will be OK." 

* * *

After lunch the following day, Sirius helped James pack up the last of his things, and got ready to take his friend back to the airport for his flight home that evening. 

"I just want to stop into the pub for a minute to tell Remus we're going," he told James. He was feeling a little antsy after going for so many hours without seeing Remus at all. 

But Remus was not behind the bar. Sirius went into the kitchen, and found Fiona there, alone. 

"He isna feeling just himself today," said Remus's aunt, "so I left him to his rest." 

"Is he all right?" Sirius asked, worried. 

The corners of Fiona's mouth tightened. "He's been worse." 

That sounded ominous enough that Sirius insisted on stopping by the house on the way to the station. He did not bother knocking, but retrieved the spare key from under a rock, and let himself in. 

Remus lay on the sofa, wrapped in a duvet, eyes fixed dully on the television with the volume turned down low. When he saw them, he struggled to sit up, wincing. His skin was blotchier than usual. Sirius knelt beside him while James hovered awkwardly in the background. 

"Hey," Sirius said softly. 

"Hey," Remus whispered, not quite looking at him. 

He was about to ask if Remus was all right, but he swallowed the question. It was obvious he was not. "Do you need anything?" 

"Water. And something for my head." Remus grimaced, waving a swollen-knuckled hand at the cluster of pill bottles beside an empty glass on the coffee table. 

Sirius looked up. "James, can you get some water from the kitchen?" 

James picked up the glass and left the room. 

"Which one?" Sirius looked at the bottles. 

"The one with the green label. Two o' those." Remus's voice dropped lower still. "I canna open it myself." 

"That's all right; I've got it," Sirius assured him, snatching up the bottle and decanting two round pills into Remus's upturned palm. "I'm just taking James to the airport. I'll be back in a few hours. Will you be OK on your own until then?" 

Remus nodded. "Aye, I'll keep." 

When James returned with the water, Remus thanked him, taking the glass between both hands and tilting it awkwardly to swallow. 

"You'd best be on your way," he said. "You dinna want to miss your flight." 

Sirius bit his lip, not wanting to leave Remus alone in his current state, but it was true that they had no time left to waste. His hand cupped Remus's cheek in farewell, feeling the heat of fever in his skin, and he promised to be back as soon as he could. 

They were halfway to the train station when Sirius balked. "I can't leave him on his own like that." 

An odd smile lifted the corner of James's mouth. "Don't worry about it. I can find my own way." 

Sirius hesitated, uncertain. "Are you sure?" 

"If I'm not, I can always ask someone," James pointed out. 

Still, Sirius did not move. "I don't want to abandon you, either." 

"You're not," James assured him. "I'll be fine." 

"OK," said Sirius awkwardly, unsure how to say goodbye to his best friend here, on a quiet Scottish street, when he had been expecting a bustling airport. "Thanks. And -- thanks for coming." 

"I'm glad I did," said James. He grabbed Sirius, pulling him into a fierce bear hug. "Go. He needs you more than I do right now. I'll see you in a few weeks." 

* * *

Remus heard the door open, but kept his eyes firmly shut. It was probably just his aunt, taking advantage of a quiet moment at the pub to come look in on him. Every joint throbbed, and the muscles of his arms and legs ached, as well as his head, but the painkillers were beginning to work their limited magic, and he had every hope of making up for some of the sleep he had missed out on the night before. If Fiona thought he was already asleep, she would not feel obligated to waste her time hanging about. 

Footsteps crossed the hardwood floor, and there was the sound of someone settling into the upholstered chair beside the sofa. The visitor gave a soft sigh, and Remus's eyes blinked open to see Sirius's apologetic face. 

"What --?" 

Sirius shrugged. "I couldn't. What if you needed something, and there was no one here?" 

"I can manage," Remus whispered, closing his eyes again. 

"I'm sure," said Sirius, sounding doubtful, "but you don't have to. Do you want anything? Food or something?" 

Remus gave his head a small shake. The sores in his mouth made eating anything a painful chore. 

"Tea?" 

He hesitated, then nodded. "Cupboard over the kettle," he muttered. "The blue box." 

Remus listened to Sirius moving around the kitchen, trying to decide how he felt about it. He hated the thought of Sirius seeing him like this, and he worried about the man being put off by the way he looked, or getting fed up with caring for him. But he could not deny that it was nice having someone there to do the things he could not. Tired and sore as he was, doing almost anything was too much trouble to be bothered with. There was a better than even chance that, left to his own devices, Remus would simply lie on the sofa, trying to sleep, as the minutes until his aunt came home crawled by. 

Sirius returned with the steaming mug of tea, and Remus eased himself into a sitting position, wondering if he looked as bad as he felt. While he waited for the tea to cool enough to drink, Sirius talked about his last day with James, and everything they had discussed. Remus let the words wash over him, half listening. It was hard to focus on much of anything. It sounded as if Sirius and his friend had had a good visit, though, and Remus was glad of that. Sirius had been worried about how James would take their relationship. 

When the tea had cooled, Remus lifted the mug clumsily between his hands. His fingers were too swollen and painful for him to grip anything, but the tea was a medicinal blend meant to help with joint pain. Careful though he was, he still managed to slop a little hot tea down his front. Sirius said nothing, but reached out a hand to steady the mug while he drank. 

"Cheers," said Remus when the tea was gone. "It was kind o' you to come by, but you dinna have to stay. I amna verra good company just the noo. I dinna feel much like talking." 

"I don't mind," Sirius assured him. "We can just watch TV if you like." 

Against his better judgement, Remus nodded. It was pleasant having Sirius around. Company made the time pass a little less slowly. 

Sirius moved to sit on the sofa beside him, and put an arm around his shoulders. "Come here." 

With a sigh, Remus leaned back against Sirius's chest, head pillowed on his shoulder. Sirius lay back on the arm of the sofa, wrapping him in a gentle embrace. 

"You can go to sleep if you want to, but I'm here if you need anything." 

Remus did not sleep, and he did not take much notice of the television, but he did relax a little, closing his eyes and listening to the slow, steady beat of Sirius's heart under his ear. 

He stayed like that for as long as he could, until necessity compelled him to sit up. 

"I have to --" he glanced at the stairs. "I'll be right back." 

He stood up, grimacing as his joints and muscles protested, and swayed for a moment before making his way to the foot of the stairs. There, he paused, a hand resting on the bannister, gathering his strength for the climb. Sirius jumped up and came to him. He did not ask if Remus needed help, but put an arm around his waist, encouraging Remus to lean on him as they slowly climbed the stairs together. 

At the bathroom door, Sirius hesitated. "Do you want me to go in with you?" He did not sound as if the possibility disturbed him at all. 

Remus glanced down at his pyjamas. Buttons were beyond the capabilities of his fingers just now, but the elasticated waistband would give him little trouble. "Nay, I should be able to manage." 

When he emerged several minutes later, Sirius was waiting for him. "Do you want to go back down again, or --?" 

"Bed." He felt too weary to contemplate another trip down the stairs. 

He made his way into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, pulling the covers over himself, while Sirius went downstairs to turn off the television and retrieve his medications and water glass. When he returned, Sirius kicked off his shoes and lay down beside Remus, wrapping an arm around his middle. 

"Is this all right?" he asked. "I'll go if you're not comfortable." 

"Nay," sighed Remus, "you can stay if you like." 

Sirius grinned. "I knew if I just stuck around long enough, sooner or later you'd have me in your bed again," he teased. 

Remus could not help a small huff of laughter. "Aye. This was all part o' the plan: seduce you with my sexy illness and inability to take care o' myself." 

Sirius's smile faded to a look of tenderness. "I don't mind, you know." 

Remus's own smile turned grim. "Aye, well, you might. There are days when I canna manage the toilet on my ain, and I'm no likely to get any prettier." 

"That doesn't matter," said Sirius. 

His fingers brushed the rough, red skin of Remus's cheek, and Remus turned his face away, feeling suddenly self-conscious under that tender gaze. 

"Dinna look at me." 

Sirius cupped his chin, gently turning his face back to look into Remus's eyes. "I knew this was part of the deal, didn't I?" he said softly, running a thumb over the angry red marks. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I abandoned you when you needed me?" 

"I dinna want you to see me like this," Remus whispered. "You willna want me anymore." 

A fond smile played on Sirius's lips. "I need to see you like this, Remus. So that you'll know that I know what I'm getting into. I need you to know that I'm here because I want to be, not because I think I have to. I want to do this. You're worth it to me." 

He bent his head, and, very gently, kissed the tip of Remus's nose.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter by [runrunhurryhurry](http://runrunhurryhurry.tumblr.com/post/126715791114/ha-so-uh-this-is-straight-up-porn-nothing-artful) (used with permission).
> 
>  **Song:** "Golden, Golden" by Andy M. Stewart

  
_Wildly, wildly, beats the heart_  
_With a rush of love like a mountain stream._  
_Wildly, wildly, play your part_  
_As free as a wild bird's dream._  


A waning half moon shone through the window of Sirius's rented room, illuminating the travel journal, open against his knees. Although it was only the first week of August, Sirius thought he could feel the season beginning to turn. Lughnasadh, Remus had called the day; the halfway point between solstice and equinox, when the summer began its long, slow slide into autumn. 

Sirius's pen hovered over the last blank page of the journal. More than two months of thoughts, notes, sketches, and drafts of letters filled its pages -- a magpie account of his strange and wonderful journey into unknown territory, and the marvels he had found there. A smile touched his lips as he wrote down the thought that had occurred to him earlier that day while discussing possible meanings of Pictish symbol stones with Remus over lunch. All that remained was to tell Remus about it. 

_Here I go,_ he wrote, and closed the journal, caressing the leather binding briefly before setting it beside the granite pebble on the nightstand. 

He dressed by moonlight, nervous excitement fizzing in his belly, and hurried down the stairs, into the night. 

The window of Remus's room was open, but no light showed. 

"Remus!" Sirius called up in a loud whisper. "Remus! Are you awake?" 

The Scot's face appeared, framed by the window. They shared a grin before he vanished again. After a moment, the front door opened, and a shadow slipped out to greet Sirius on the garden path with a kiss. 

"I thought you might come tonight," said Remus. He had recovered from his recent bout of illness, and was looking and feeling much better. 

Fingers laced together, they hurried through the darkness, exchanging smiles but few words. There was no need; they both knew where they were headed. The Den was a patchwork of silver light and deep shadow. They had to feel their way carefully down the stone steps and into the hollow. The rushing sound of water and leaves surrounded them as they tumbled onto the grass at the foot of the prayer tree, kissing and laughing. 

"Stop for a second," Sirius said breathlessly. "There's something I need to tell you." 

Remus blinked at him expectantly, and another volley of giggles burst from Sirius's lips. He could not seem to stop. His facial contortions as he tried to control his laughter set Remus off again, and they gave themselves up to a moment of helpless mirth. 

"You've already told me you're queer," chortled Remus. "But I would have guessed that by noo, anyway. You arena pregnant, and I dinna think you're going to propose. What's left?" 

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face and gave up. Important as the moment was, it seemed his choice was either to speak his mind in spite of the giggles, or not to tell Remus at all. 

"Fuck it," he said, gazing up into Remus's eyes as his chest quaked with nervous laughter. "I love you." 

Remus's eyes widened. "What?" 

"I love you, Remus," Sirius repeated, sobering. 

Remus did not say anything, but his eyes went soft with affection. The kiss he gave Sirius was filled with tenderness, and went on for a very long time. 

"I've been thinking," Remus murmured as they broke apart. "Perhaps it's time we rethought this 'no shagging' business." 

"Are you sure?" Sirius searched his face. "It's all right if you're not. I can wait." 

In answer, Remus rolled on top of him, pressing his hips down so Sirius could feel how hard he was. Sirius moaned into his mouth. 

"I'm tired o' waiting," panted Remus. "I want you. Let's go back to your place. We dinna want to wake Auntie Fiona." 

"No." Sirius kissed him fiercely. "No, I want to do it here. In the Den." 

A slow smile spread across Remus's face, and his hands went immediately to Sirius's fly, unfastening the button as he nibbled at his throat. But Sirius had spent a lot of time and countless self-pleasuring sessions over the past weeks fantasizing about what he would do if he ever again had access to a willing and eager Remus. 

"Let me," he whispered, pushing Remus away. 

He sat up, back resting against the thick trunk of the prayer tree, and stripped off his shirt, stretching luxuriantly, as Remus's hungry eyes roved over his body. Sirius's hands fell to the zipper of his jeans, and he raised his hips to slide them off, along with his underwear. He sat naked under the tree, legs apart, stroking himself as he stared into Remus's eyes. 

"Come here," he said softly. 

Remus grinned and crawled toward him on hands and knees, until Sirius told him, "That's close enough. Take your clothes off." 

The Scot knelt between his splayed thighs and drew his shirt over his head, pushing his pants down to his knees. Sirius allowed himself a moment to revel in the sight of Remus's parted lips, heaving chest, and erect cock, before reaching for the other man's hand, drawing him close and turning him to sit with his back to Sirius's chest. His own erection rubbed delightfully against the small of Remus's back, but that was not the point of the exercise. He ran his hands down Remus's thighs, urging him to kick his jeans off, then back up his sides and over his chest, enjoying the skin-to-skin contact and having free access to Remus's body for the first time in two months. 

Sirius touched him slowly and lightly, all over, kissing and nuzzling at his neck and murmuring in his ear as Remus's head tipped back with a sigh to rest on his shoulder. His fingers trailed up Remus's arms and over his shoulders, gliding down his chest and belly, making him shiver. When at long last he wrapped a loose hand around Remus's cock, feeling the slide of his foreskin on his palm and the slippery bead of precome that leaked from the slit, Remus made a needy, sobbing sound, thrusting up into his fist, hands clenching convulsively at Sirius's thighs. 

"Do you like this?" Sirius asked, tongue teasing the shell of Remus's ear as he lazily jerked the Scot off. 

"Aye," Remus sighed. "But w-what about you?" 

"Hmmm," Sirius mused. "That's a good question. I'll be very interested to see what you feel inspired to do to me in a bit. But for now --" he continued, planting a soft kiss on his boyfriend's shoulder, "-- give me a minute to appreciate what I almost didn't have." 

He watched the play of expressions across Remus's face, listening to the small sounds the man made at his touch. This was what he had been wanting -- to see Remus in ecstasy, without the distraction of seeking to satisfy his own physical desires. 

"I want to draw you like this," he murmured. "You're so fucking beautiful, Remus. Been thinking about having you like this for weeks." 

Remus squirmed against him, moaning, and Sirius grinned, realizing that his words were having almost as much of an effect on the other man as his touch. 

"Just imagining your cock in my hand gets me so hot," he whispered in the Scot's ear. "Fuck, everything about you gets me hot. The other day, when we were making out on the sofa, did you know I came? I did. You slid your hand down over my ass, and I had a fucking orgasm." 

Sirius was rewarded with a desperate whimpering sound. 

"Mmm, you're close, aren't you? You're going to come in my hand, and I'm going to watch you." 

" _Sirius_ \--" Remus moaned shakily, thrusting against his palm. 

"I love it when you say my name like that. Come for me, Remus." 

He tightened his grip, stroking quick and rough, eyes fixed hungrily on the Scot's face. 

"Oh! Oh! _Sirius!_ " 

Remus's body convulsed as he climaxed. Sirius held him tightly until the spasms passed, an arm locked across his chest, mouth pressed to Remus's shoulder. When his boyfriend's body relaxed against him in post-orgasmic bonelessness, Sirius sighed in satisfaction and nuzzled Remus's ear. 

"So beautiful," he whispered again. 

It took Remus a moment to recover, for which Sirius was grateful. The sight and sound of Remus losing control had brought him very close to the brink, and he did not want to finish too quickly, should the Scot feel inspired to reciprocate. They reclined against the smooth bark of the tree, breathing together, Sirius's fingers laced with Remus's over his boyfriend's pounding heart. 

"I wasna expecting that," sighed Remus. 

"Was it good?" 

Remus laughed softly. "Aye, it was." 

Sirius grinned. "I hoped you'd like it. It's the one kind of sex I know I'm good at. You'll have to teach me everything else." 

The Scot gave a bawdy chuckle, turning over on hands and knees to kiss him, biting and nibbling at Sirius's lips. "I look forwards to the challenge. You have a mouth that looks made for sucking cock. I could teach you a little about that right noo, unless there's something else you'd like?" 

Sirius ignored the pleasant shiver that the words sent through his belly, and gave Remus his best come-hither look. "Surprise me." 

Remus sat back on his heels, looking thoughtful for a moment. Then a wicked gleam lit his eye. "Turn around." 

Sirius raised his eyebrows. 

"I want to test something. I promise it willna hurt." 

Mystified and slightly nervous, Sirius turned and allowed Remus to position him, kneeling, legs apart, hands braced against the trunk of the tree. He felt very exposed. But then he felt the warmth of Remus's body against his back, and his eyes fell closed as the man's fingers ghosted down his sides, making him shiver. He started much as Sirius had, touching him softly everywhere except between his legs. Sirius moaned. It felt glorious to have Remus's touch on his bare skin after so long. 

Nails raked slowly up the backs of his thighs as Remus blazed a trail of kisses down his spine. Then Remus's hands were massaging his ass, and he was nipping and biting playfully at the firm flesh, making Sirius gasp and squeak with pleasure. But that was nothing compared to the startled yelp Sirius gave a moment later when Remus's tongue swept down the cleft between his buttocks. 

"R-Remus?" he gasped. 

The Scot did not stop, and soon he was lapping and teasing at Sirius's anus as if there was nothing in the world he would rather be doing, busy tongue playing havoc with Sirius's senses. Sirius had never imagined such a thing -- could not believe that Remus wanted to do it -- nor could he believe how incredible it felt to have such a filthy, forbidden thing done to him. He moaned and whimpered shamelessly, pushing back against his boyfriend's mouth. 

After a few minutes, Remus pulled away. "I thought so," he said smugly. "You're verra sensitive there, are you no?" He ran a finger over the saliva-slicked pucker, making Sirius shiver. "I think you could come just from me touching you there." 

" _Oh!_ " Sirius gasped as Remus bent to his work once more, this time pressing the bead of his tongue stud right up inside the tight ring of muscle and flicking it in and out. Sirius clung to the tree, eyes squeezed shut, desperately hoping that Remus was right. He could not remember ever coming before without some touch or pressure on his cock. Remus's teasing tongue had brought him right up to the edge, and Sirius felt if he did not come soon, he might die of pleasure. " _Please_ \--" he begged. 

Perversely, Remus stopped what he was doing, leaving Sirius panting and dizzy. He heard the Scot move away, and turned his head to see Remus rummaging for something in the pocket of his jeans. Then he was back, kneeling behind Sirius, arms wrapped around his chest, nuzzling his neck, as his well-lubed erection ground against Sirius's ass. 

"My mouth was getting tired," Remus murmured in his ear, "and all those sexy sounds you were making made me hard again, so I thought we might try something else for a bit." 

"Remus -- I -- um," Sirius's voice quavered with sudden uncertainty. 

"Dinna fash," Remus soothed, kissing him just below the ear. "I willna fuck you unless you ask me to do it, and I willna do it without protection." His voice dropped to a low growl. "But gods, I want to." 

A thrill of excitement and fear shivered through Sirius's belly as Remus's cock rubbed against him, foreskin dragging deliciously across his hole. 

"Is this all right?" asked Remus. 

" _Yes_ ," Sirius hissed. " _Please_ , Remus --" 

"Please what?" 

"Need to come," he whined. 

"Mmmm, soon, love." Remus nuzzled him some more. "If I canna get you off this way, I'll suck you, after." 

Sirius was lost to anything but the hot hardness pressing and sliding against him, and the sound of Remus's increasingly ragged breathing in his ear, his vocalizations reduced to a babble of semi-coherent pleading. 

"Need -- Remus -- please -- _now_ \-- god, _please_!" 

"Christ, Sirius," Remus groaned. "You're going to make _me_ come, if you keep that up." 

The thrust of his hips against Sirius's increased, and Sirius could feel himself teetering on the knife-edge, but he just -- could -- not -- get -- _over_. 

" _Please_ \-- need _more_ \--" he begged. 

Remus swore and jerked back, wrapping a hand around his own cock. Sirius felt the blunt, slippery head nudge his anus. The breath caught in his throat and time seemed to stop, poised so close to the brink of an act which filled Sirius with both terror and burning lust. And then Remus was coming, moaning his name. Sirius felt spunk spurt over his hole. It was exciting. He wanted more. Instinctively, he thrust his hips back. 

The pulsing head of Remus's cock breached him, and with a startled cry, Sirius came, hard, against the tree and onto the grass at his knees. Remus made a guttural sound and grasped Sirius's hips, holding him still to prevent any deeper penetration as waves of pleasure shuddered through them both. 

When the spasms passed, Remus carefully eased out of him, turning Sirius in his arms and gathering him close against his heaving, sweat-slick chest. 

"Shite. I'm sorry, love," he panted. "I didna mean to -- We should've used protection for that. Did I hurt you?" 

Still feeling stunned, Sirius shook his head. "It was -- you made me come." 

"I felt you." Remus sounded awed. "I didna ken it would feel like that." 

"But -- haven't you done it before?" asked Sirius, surprised. 

"It's been done to me," he admitted, "but I havena done it to anyone else." 

Sirius nuzzled his shoulder. Up until that night, he had thought of being penetrated as something shameful, scary, dirty, and more than likely painful as well. But now -- "We could try it again sometime, if you like," he said shyly. 

"I'll bear that in mind," Remus murmured before capturing his lips in a prolonged kiss. 

They lay on the grass in the faint moonlight for some time, kissing and touching and whispering soft words to one another amid the sounds of flowing water and rushing leaves. 

"What happens now?" asked Sirius quietly as Remus dropped tender kisses onto his collarbone. He already knew the answer. Summer would be ending soon. His time with Remus was growing short. By the time the moon was full again, he would be home, and a month from today, he would be starting at Harvard. It seemed like part of someone else's life. 

The Scot lay back in the grass, pulling Sirius close in his arms. "You'll be away home soon." 

"Yeah." Sirius sighed regretfully. "Don't want to, though." 

"Well, you have things to sort out with your family and uni, and you canna do that from here. But you'll come back, aye?" 

"Of course I will." Sirius kissed him fiercely. "You think I wouldn't? If I can't transfer at the semester, I'll still come visit for Christmas." 

Remus sighed. "It seems like such a long time from noo." 

"I know," said Sirius. "I'll miss you. When I come back, I probably won't let you out of bed for a week." 

That made Remus laugh and kiss him again. "Well, there isna so much else to do in Scotland in the winter. I dinna ken what my parents will say, though, if that's how you mean to keep Christmas with them." 

"Don't worry," Sirius grinned. "Your family will love me. I can be very charming when I try." 

"Aye, that you can," Remus said fondly. "I dinna ken what my family will make o' you, but --" he hesitated for a second, looking as if the words teetering on his tongue frightened him a little. "I love you, Sirius. At least, I think I do." 

Sirius's grin softened, and he kissed him. "Say it again?" 

"I love you, you wee fool," Remus chuckled, returning the kiss with interest. "Now can we go back to your place? I'm freezing my bollocks off out here, and I dinna think either of us want that." 

"Definitely not," Sirius laughed, getting up and holding out a hand to help Remus to his feet. "Don't worry; I can think of a few good ways to warm them up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>  The author, viewing a misty Highland village, on the way to a small distillery. (July 2008)

**Author's Note:**

> I have made a [_Highland Fling_ fan's guide to Scotland](http://picascribit.tumblr.com/post/145886318945/a-highland-fling-fans-guide-to-scotland) for anyone who is interested in learning more or visiting any of the locations mentioned in this fic.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What the Music owes to the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350884) by [Januaryskies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Januaryskies/pseuds/Januaryskies)




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